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BEAUTIES 



OF 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 



THE 



n^iBimr^ii^^ 



OF 



/ 
WASHINGTON IRVING 



AUTHOR OF 



"THE SKETCH-BOOK," "KNICKERBOCKER,' 
"CRAYON MISCELLANY," &c. 



'"' 1876. ,' 



A'AiHlH^ 



3P ft Clair dpi) I a: 
CAREY, LEA, & BLANCHARD. 



1835. 



c^:^ 



r 



Entered according to an Act of Congress, in the 
year 1835, by Washington Irving, in the Clerk's 
Office of the Southern District of New York. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
The Inn Kitchen, 9 

The Spectre Bridegroom, 11 

A Wet Sunday in a Gauntry Inn, 24 

An Obediertt Hen-pecked Husband, 27 

A Desirable Match, 31 

A Rival, 33 

An Invitation, .35 

A Dutch Entertainment, 36 

War, 39 

English Stage Coachmen, 40 

The Waltz, 41 

Dutch Tea-parties, 42 

Cosmogony, , 44 

Dutch Legislators, 51 

The Little Man in Black, 54 

My Aunt Charity, 60 

Will Wizard, 65 

Style, 69 

Frenchmen, 72 

The Wife, 73 

To Anthony Evergreen, Gent., 79 

Shovi'ing the Nature of History in General. — further- 
more, the Universal Acquirements of William the 

1 * 



vi CONTENTS. 

Page 
Testy, and how a man may learn so much as to 

render himself good for nothing, 80 

Dirk Schuiler and the Valiant Peter, 88 

Description of the powerful Army that assembled at 
the City of New- Amsterdam — together with the in- 
terview between Peter the Headstrong and General 
Von PofTenburgh, and Peter's sentiments respecting 

unfortunate great men, 91 

Of Peter Stuyvesant's Expedition into the East Coun- 
try, showing that though an Old Bird, he did not un- 
derstand Trap, 96 

How the People of New-Amsterdam were thrown into 

a great Panic by the news of a threatened Invasion, 

and the manner in which they fortified themselves, . ..103 

The troubles of New-Amsterdam appear to thicken, 

showing the bravery in time of Peril of a People 

who defend themselves by Resolutions, 106 

The Widow and her Son, 113 

Storm at Sea, 119 

John Bull, 120 

Consequence 130 

The Cockloft family, 131 

Conversion of the Americans, 139 

Tom Straddle, 142 

Sleepy Hollow, 147 

Ichabod Crane, 149 

Superstition, 152 

The Broken Heart 154 

A Wreck at Sea, 161 

Land, 1 C2 

Genius, 163 

A Contrast, 164 

Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Asem 

Hacchem, Principal Slave-Driver to his Highness 

the Bashaw of TripoH, 168 



CONTENTS. vii 

Page 
A warlike Portrait of the Great Peter, 173 

Mutability of Literature, 182 

Book-Making, 184 

A Dutch Settler's Dream, 188 

The Pride of the Village, 189 

Domestic Scene, 196 

Master Simon, 197 

Perseverance, 198 

Doleful Disaster of Anthony the Trumpeter, ib 

The Grief of Peter Stuyvesant, 200 

The Dignified Retirement and Mortal surrender of 

Peter the Headstrong, ib 

Morning, 20 5 

The Author's Account of his History of New- York, . .206 

Westminister Abbey, 207 

Master Henry Hudson, 208 

Master Robert Juet, 209 

A Dutch Voyage of Discovery, 210 

Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Asem 
Hacchem, Principal Slave-Driver to his Highness 

the Bashaw of TripoU 211 

Autumnal Reflections, 216 

The Family of the Lambs, 220 

Blindmans'-Buff, 223 

The Angler, ib 

Rural Life ih England, 225 

Letter from mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Muley 
Helim al Raggi, surnamed the Agreeable Ragamuf- 
fin, chief Mountebank and Buffo-dancer to his 

Highness, 228 

James I. of Scotland, 236 

How Peter Stuyvesant relieved the Sovreign People 
from the burden of taking care of the Nation — ^with 
sundry particulars of his conduct in time of peace, . . . .ib. 



viii, CONTENTS. 

Page 

Showing the great difficulty Philosophers have had in 

peopling America — and how the Aborigenes came to 
be begotten by Accident, to the great reUef and satis- 
faction of the Author, .... •••• 244 

Wouter Van Twiller, 250 

The Grand Council of New-Amsterdam — ^with rea- 
sons why an Alderman should be Fat, 254 

Ichabod Crane and the Galloping Hessian, 258 



BEAUTIES 
op 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 



THE INN KITCHEN. 

During a journey that I once made through the Ne- 
therlands, I had arrived one evening at the Pomme d' Or, 
the principle inn of a small Flemish village. It vv^as after 
the hour of the table dViote, so that I was obliged to make 
a solitary supper from the reUques of its ampler board. 
The v^reather was chilly; I was seated alone in one end 
of a great gloomy dining-room, and my repast being over, 
I had the prospect before me of a long dull evening, with- 
out any visible means of enlivening it. I summoned 
mine host, and requested something to read; he brought 
me the whole literary stock of his household, a Dutch 
family-bible, an almanack in the same language, and a 
number of old Paris newspapers. As I sat dozing over 
one of the latter, reading old news and stale criticisms, 
my ear was now and then struck with bursts of laughter 
which seemed to proceed from the kitchen. Every one 
that has travelled on the continent must know how fa- 
vourite a resort the kitchen of a country inn is to the 
middle and inferior order of travellers; particularly in 
that equivocal kind of weather, when a fire becomes agree- 
able towards evening. I threw aside the newspaper, and 
explored my way to the kitchen, to take a peep at the 
group that appeared to be so merry. It was composed 
partly of travellers who had arrived some hours before in 
a diligence, and partly of the usual attendants and hangers- 
on of inns. They were seated round a great burnished 
stove, that might have been mistaken for an altar, at 
which they were worshipping. It was covered with 
various kitchen vessels of resplendant brightness ; among 



10 BEAUTIES OP 

wMch steamed and hissed a huge copper tea-kettle. A 
large lamp threw a strong mass of light upon the group 
bringing out many odd features in strong relief. Its 
yellow rays partially illumined the spacious kitchen, dy- 
ing duskily away into remote corners ; except where they 
settled into mellow radiance on the broad side of a flitch of 
bacon, or were reflected back from well-scoured utensils, 
that gleamed from the midst of obscurity. A strapping 
Flemish lass, with long golden pendants in her ears, and a 
necklace with a golden heart suspended to it, was the pre- 
siding priestess of the temple. 

Many of the company were furnished with pipes, and 
most of them with some kind of evening potation. I found 
their mirth was occasioned by anecdotes, which a little 
swarthy Frenchman, with a dry weazen face and large 
whiskers, was giving of his love adventures ; at the end of 
each of which, there was one of those bursts of honest un- 
ceremonious laughter, in which a man indulges in that 
temple of true liberty, an inn. 

As I had no better mode of getting through a tedious- 
blustering evening, I took my seat near the stove, and 
listened to a variety of travellers' tales, some very extra- 
vagant, and most very dull. All of them, however, have 
faded from my treacherous memory except one, which I 
will endeavour to relate. I fear, however, it derived its 
chief zest from the manner in which it was told, and the 
pecuhar air and appeajance of the narrator. He was a 
corpulent old Svpiss, who had the look of a veteran tra- 
veller. He was dressed in a tarnished green travelling 
jacket, with a broad belt round his waist, and a pair of 
overalls, with buttons from the hips to the ancles. He 
was of a fidl rubicund countenance, with a double chin^ 
aquiline nose, and a pleasant twinkling eye. His haicr 
was light, and curled from under an old green velvet tia-- 
velling cap stuck on one side of his head. He was in-^ 
terrupted more than once by the arrival of guests, or the- 
remarks of hJs auditors; and paused now and then to re-- 
plenish his pipe; at which times he had generally a ro- 
guish leer, and a sly joke for the buxom kitchen inaid., 

I wish my reader could imagine the old fellow lolling. 
in a huge arm-chair, one arm a-kimbo, the other holding, 
a curiously twisted tobacco pipe, formed of genuine e^cume. 
de mer, decorated with silver chain and silken tassel— his 
head cocked on one side, and a whimsical cut of. the eya 
occasionally, as he related the following story.. 

• 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 11 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. 

On the summit of one of the heights of the Odenwald, 
a wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany, that Ues 
not far from the confluence of the Main and the Rhine, 
there stood, many, many years since, the Castle of the 
Baron Von Landshort. It is now quite fallen to decay, 
and almost buried among beech trees and dark firs ; above 
which, however, its old watch-tower may still be seen 
struggling, like the former possessor I have mentioned, 
to carry a high head and look down upon the neighbour- 
ing country. 

The Baron was a dry branch of the great family of 
Katzenellenbogen,* and inherited the reliques of the pro- 
perty, and all the pride of his ancestors. Though the 
warlike disposition of his predecessors had much impaired 
the family possessions, yet the Baron still endeavoured to 
keep up some show of former state. The times were 
peaceable, and the German nobles, in general, had aban- 
doned their inconvenient old castles, perched like eagles' 
nests among the mountains, and had built more conve- 
nient residences in the valleys; still the Baron remained 
proudly drawn up in his little fortress, cherishing with 
hereditary inveteracy, all the old family feuds ; so that 
he was on ill terms with some of his nearest neighbours, 
on account of disputes that had happened between their 
great great grandfathers. 

The Baron had hut one child, a daughter: but nature, 
when she grants but one child, always compensates by 
making it a prodigy ; and so it was with the daughter of 
the Baron. All the nurses, gossips, and country cousins, 
assured her father that she had not her equal for beauty 
in all Germany; and who shoidd know better than they? 
She had, moreover, been brought up with great care un- 
der the superintendence of two maiden aunts, who had 
spent some years of their early life at one of the little 
German courts, and were skilled in all the branches of 
knowledge necessary to the education of a fine lady. Un- 
der their instructions, she became a miracle of accomplish- 



♦ t e. CaVs-Elhow. The name of a family of those parts very 
powerful in former times- The appellation, we are told, was given in 
compliment to a peerless dame of the family , celebrated for a fine arm. 



12 BEAUTIES OF 

ments. By the time she was eighteen, she could em- 
broider to admiration, and had worked whole histories of 
the saints in tapestry, with such strength of expression 
in their countenances, that they looked like so many souls 
in purgatory. She could read without great difficulty, 
and had spelled her way through several church legends, 
and almost all the chivalric wonders of the Heldenbuch. 
She had even made considerable proficiency in writing; 
could sign her own name without missing a letter, and 
so legibly that her aunts could read it without spectacles. 
She excelled in making little elegant good-for-nothing 
lady-like knicknacks of all kinds; was versed in the most 
abstruse dancing of the day; played a number of airs on 
the harp and guitar ; and knew all the tender ballads of 
the Minnielieders by heart. 

Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and coquettes 
in their younger days, were admirably calculated to be 
vigilant guardians and strict censors of the conduct of 
their niece ; for there is no duenna so rigidly prudent and 
inexorably decorous, as a superannuated coquette. She 
was rarely suffered out of their sight; never went be- 
yond the domains of the castle, imless well attended, or 
rather well watched ; had continual lectures read to her 
about strict decorum and implicit obedience; and, as to 
the men — pah! she was taught to hold them at such 
distance, and in such absolute distrust, that, unless pro- 
perly authorised she would not have cast a glance upon 
the handsomest cavalier in the world — no, not if he were 
even dying at her feet. 

The good effects of this system were wonderfully ap- 
parent. The young lady was a pattern of docility and 
correctness. While others were wasting their sweetness 
in the glare of the world, and liable to be plucked and 
thrown aside by every hand; she was coyly blooming into 
fresh and lovely womanhood under the protection of those 
immaculate spinsters, like a rose-bud blushing forth among 
guardian thorns. Her aunts looked upon her with pride 
and exultation, and vaunted that though all the other 
young ladies in the world might go astray, yet, thank 
Heaven, nothing of the kind could happen to the heiress 
of Katzenellenbogen. 

But, however scantily the Baron Von Landshort might 
be provided with children; his household was by no 
means a small one; for Providence had enriched him 
with abundance of poor relations. They, one and all. 



WASHINGTON IKVING. 13 

possessed the affectionate disposition common to humble 
relatives; were wonderfully attached to the Baron, and 
took every possible occasion to come in swarms and en- 
liven the castle. All family festivals were commemorated 
by these good people at the Baron's expense; and when 
they were fdled with good cheer, they would declare that 
there was nothing on earth so delightful as these family 
meetings, these jubilees of the heart. 

The Baron, though a small man, had a large soul, and 
it swelled with satisfaction at the consciousness of being 
the greatest man in the little world about him. He 
loved to tell long stories about the stark old warriors 
whose portraits looked grimly down from the walls 
around, and he found no listeners equal to those who fed 
at liis expense. He was much given to the marvellous, 
and a firm believer in all those supernatural tales with 
which every mountain and valley in Germany abounds. 
The faith of his guests exceeded even his own : they lis- 
tened to every tale of wonder with open eyes and mouth, 
and never failed to be astonished, even though repeated 
for the hundredth time. Thus lived the Baron Von 
Landshort, the oracle of his table, the absolute monarch 
of his little territory, and happy, above all things, in the 
persuasion that he was the wisest man of the age. 

At the time of which my story treats there was a 
great family gathering at the castle, on an affair of the 
utmost importance. It was to receive the destined bride- 
groom of the Baron's daughter. A negociation had been 
carried on between the father and an old nobleman of Ba- 
varia, to unite the dignity of the two houses by the mar- 
riage of their children. The preliminaries had been con- 
ducted with proper punctilio. The young people were 
betrothed without seeing each other; and the time was 
appointed for the marriage ceremony. The young Count 
Von Altenburgh had been recalled from the army for 
the purpose, and was actually on his way to the Baron's 
to receive his bride. Missives had even been received 
from him from Wurtzburg, where he was accidentally 
detained, mentioning the day and hour when he might 
be expected to arrive. 

The castle was in a tumult of preparation to give him 
a suitable welcome. The fair bride had been decked 
out with uncommon care. The two aunts had superin- 
tended her toilet, and quarrelled the whole morning 
about every article of her dress. The young lady had ta- 

2 



14 BEAUTIES OF 



ken the advantage of their contest to follow the bent 
of her own taste; and fortunately it was a good one. She 
looked as lovely as youthful bridegroom could desire ; and 
the flutter of expectation heightened the lustre of her 
charms. 

The suffusions that mantled her face and neck, the 
gentle heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then lost 
in reverie, all betrayed the soft tumult that was going on 
in her little heart. The aunts were continually hover- 
ing around her; for maiden aunts are apt to take great 
interest in affairs of this nature. They were giving her 
a World of staid council how to deport herself, what to 
Say, and in what manner to receive the expected lover. 

The Baron was no less buried in preparations. He 
had, in truth nothing exactly to do; but he was natu- 
rally a fuming bustling Uttle man, and could not re- 
main passive when all the world was in a hurry. He 
worried from top to bottom of the castle with an air of 
infinite anxiety; he continually called the servants from 
their work to exhort them to be diligent ; and buzzed about 
every hall and chamber, as idly restless and importunate 
as a blue-bottle fly on a warm summer's day. 

In the mean time the fatted calf had been killed, the 
forests had rung with the clamour of the huntsman ; the 
kitchen was crowded with good cheer; the cellars had 
yielded up whole oceans of Rkein-wine and Ferne-wein ; 
and even the great Heidelburg tun had been laid under 
contribution. Every thing was ready to receive the dis- 
tingmshed guests with Saus imd Braus in the true spirit 
of German hospitality — but the guest delayed to make 
his appearance. Hour rolled after hour. The sun that 
poured his downward rays upon the rich forest of the 
Odenwald, now just gleamed along the summits of the 
mountains. The Baron mounted the highest tower, and 
strained his eyes in hopes of catching a distant sight ox 
the Count and his attendants. Once he thought he be- 
held them ; the sound of horns came floating from the 
Valley, prolonged by the mountain echoes. A number 
of horsemen were seen far below, slowly advancing along 
the road; but when they had nearly reached the foot of 
the mountain, they suddenly struck off in a different di- 
rection. The last ray of sunsliiiie departed — the bats 
began to flit by in the twilight — the road grew dimmer 
and dimmer to the view; and nothing appeared stirring 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 15 

in it, but now and then a peasant lagging homeward from 
his labour. 

While the old castle of Landshort was in this state of 
perplexity, a very interesting scene was transacting in a 
diti'ercnt part of the Odenwald. 

The young Count Von Altenburg was tranquilly pur- 
suing his route in that sober jog-trot way, in which a 
man travels towards matrimony when his fricmds have 
taken all the trouble and uncertainty of courtship off his 
hands, and a bride is waiting for him, as certainly as a 
dinner at the end of his journey. He had encountered 
at Wurtzburg, a youthful companion in arms, with whom 
he had seen some service on the frontiers; Hermon Von 
Starkenfaust, one of the stoutest hands, and wortliiest 
hearts, of German chivalry, who was now returning from 
the army. His father's castle was not far distant from 
the old fortress of Landshort, although an hereditary 
feud rendered the families hostile, and strangers to each 
other. 

In the warm-hearted moment of recognition, the young 
friends related all their past adventures and fortunes, and 
the Count gave the whole history of his intended nuptials 
with a young lady whom he had never seen, but of whose 
charms he had received the most enrapturing descrip- 
tions. 

As the route of the friends lay in the same direction, 
they agreed to perform the rest of their journey together; 
and that they might do it the more leisurely, set off from 
Wurtzburg, at an early hour, the Count having given di- 
rections for his retinue to follow and overtake him. 

They beguiled their wayfaring vdth recollections of 
their military scenes and adventures; but the Count was 
apt to be a httle tedious, now and then, about the re- 
puted charms of his bride, and the felicity that awaited 
him. 

In this way they had entered among the mountains of 
the Odenwald, and were traversing one of its most lone- 
ly and thickly wooded passes. It is well known that 
the forests of Germany have always been as much in- 
fested by robbers as its castles by spectres; and at this 
time, the former were particularly numerous, from the 
hordes of disbanded soldiers wandering about the coun- 
try. It will not appear extraordinary, therefore, that 
the Cavaliers were attacked by a gang of these stragglers, 
in the depth of the forest. They defended themselves 



16 BEAUTIES OF 

with bravery, but were nearly overpowered, when the 
Count's retinue arrived to their assistance. At sight of 
them the robbers fled, but not until the Count had re- 
ceived a mortal wound. He was slowly and carefully 
conveyed back to the city of Wurtzburg, and a friar sum- 
moned from a neighbouring convent, who was famous 
for his skill in administering to both soul and body : 
but half of his skill was superfluous; the moments of 
the unfortunate Count were numbered. 

With his dying breath he entreated his friend to re- 
pair instantly to the castle of Landshort, and explain the 
fatal cause of his not keeping his appointment with his 
bride. Though not the most ardent of lovers, he was 
one of the most punctilious of men, and appeared earnest- 
ly solicitous that this mission should be speedily and cour- 
teously executed. "Unless this is done," said he, "I 
shall not sleep quietly in my grave !" He repeated these 
last words with peculiar solemnity. A request, at a 
moment so impressive, admitted no hesitation. Stark- 
enfaust endeavoured to soothe him to calmness; pro- 
mised faithfully to execute his wish, and gave him his 
hand in solemn pledge. The dying man pressed it in ac- 
knowledgment, but soon lapsed into deUrium — raved a- 
bout his bride — his engagements — his plighted word ; 
ordered his horse, that he might ride to the castle of 
Landshort ; and expired in the fancied act of vaulting 
into the saddle. 

Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh, and a soldier's tear, on 
the untimely fate of his comrade ; and then pondered on 
the awkward mission he had undertaken. His heart was 
heavy, and his head perplexed ; for he was to present 
himself an unbidden guest among hostile people, and to 
damp their festivity with tidings fatal to their hopes. 
Still there were certain whisperings of curiosity in his 
bosom to see this far-famed beauty of Katzenellenbogen, 
so cautiously shut up from the world ; for he was a pas- 
sionate admirer of the sex, and there was a dash of eccen- 
tricity and enterprise in his character that made him 
fond of all singular adventures. 

Previous to his departure he made all due arrange- 
ments with the holy fraternity of the convent for the 
funeral solemnities of his friend, who was to be buried 
in the cathedral of Wurtzburg, near some of his illustri- 
ous relatives ; and the mourning retinue of the Count 
took charg:5 of liis remains. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 17 

It is now high time that we should return to the an- 
cient family of Katzenellenhogen, who were impatient 
for their guest, and still more for their dinner ; and to 
the worthy little Baron, whom they left airing himself on 
the watch-tower. 

JXight closed in, but still no guest arrived. The Ba- 
rcn descended from the tower in despair. The banquet, 
which had been delayed from hour to hour, could no 
longer be postponed. The meats were already overdone ; 
the cook in agony; and the whole household had the 
look of a garrison that had been reduced by flimine. 
The Baron was obliged reluctantly to give orders for the 
feast without the presence of the guest. All were seated 
at table, and just on the point of commencing, when the 
sound of a horn from without the gate gave notice of the 
approach of a stranger. Another long blast filled the old 
court of the castle with its echoes, and were answered by 
the warder from the walls. The Baron hastened to re- 
ceive his future son-in-law. 

The drawbridge had been let down, and the stranger 
was before the gate. He was a tall gallant cavalier, 
mounted on a black steed. His countenance was pale, 
but he had a beaming, romantic eye, and an air of state- 
ly melancholy. The Baron was a little mortified that 
he should have come in this simple, solitary style. His 
dignity for a moment was ruffled, and he felt disposed to 
consider it a want of proper respect for the important oc- 
casion, and the important family with which he was to 
be connected. He pacified himself, however, with the 
conclusion that it must have been youthful impatience 
which had induced liim thus to spur on sooner than his 
attendants. 

"I am sorry," said the stranger, "to break in upon 
you thus unseasonably — " 

Here the Baron interrupted him with a world of com- 
pliments and greetings ; for to tell the truth, he prided him- 
self upon his courtesy and his eloquence. The stranger 
attempted, once or twice, to stem the torrent of words, 
but in vain, so he bowed his head and suffered it to flow 
on. By the time the Baron had come to a pause, they 
had reached the inner court of the castle ; and the stran- 
ger was again about to speak, when he was once more 
interrupted by the appearance of the female part of the 
family, leading forth the shrinking and blushing bride. 
He gazed on her for a moment as one entranced; it seem- 

2* 



18 BEAUTIES OF 

ed as if his whole soul beamed foith m the gaze, and 
rested upon that lovely form. One of the maiden aunts 
whispered something in her ear; she made an effort to 
speak ; her moist blue eye was timidly raised ; gave a shy 
glance of inquiry on the stranger ; and was cast gain on 
the ground. The words died away ; but there was a 
sweet smile playi.ng about her lips, and a soft dimpling 
of the cheek that showed her glance had not been unsa- 
tisfactory. It was impossible for a girl at the fond age 
of eighteen, highly predisposed for love and matrimony, 
not to be pleased with so gallant a cavalier. 

The late hour at which the guest had arrived left no 
time for parley. The Baron was peremptory, and de- 
ferred all particular conversation until the morning, and 
led the way to the untasted banquet. 

It was served up in the great hall of the castle. A- 
round the walls hung the hard favoured portraits of the 
heroes of the house of Katzencllenbogen and the trophies 
which they had gained in the field and in the chase. 
Hacked corslets, splintered jousting spears, and tattered 
banners, were mingled with the spoils of sylvan warfare ; 
the jaws of the wolf, and the tusks of the boar, grinned 
horribly among cross-bows and battle-axes, and a huge 
pair of antlers branched accidentally over the head of the 
youthful bridegroom. 

The cavalier took but little notice of the company or 
the entertainment. He scarcely tasted the banquet, but 
seemed absorbed in admiration of his bride. He con- 
versed in a low tone that could not be overheard — for 
the language of love is never loud ; but where is the fe- 
male ear so dull that it cannot catch the softest whisper 
of the lover? There was a mingled tenderness and gra- 
vity in his manner, that appeared to have a powerful ef- 
fect upon the young lady. Her colour came and went 
as she listened with deep attention. Now and then she 
made some blushing reply, and when his eye was turned 
away, she would steal a side-long glance at his romantic 
countenance, and heave a gentle sigh of tender happiness. 
It was evident that the young couple were completely 
enamoured. The aunts, who were deeply versed in the 
mysteries of the heart, declared that they had fallen in 
love with each at first sight. 

The feast went on merrily, or at least noisily, for the 
gnests were all blessed with those keen appetites that at- 
tend upon light purses and mountain air. The Baron 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 19 

told his best and longest stories, and never had he told 
them so well, or with such great effect. If there was 
any thing marvellous, his auditors were lost in astonish- 
ment; and if any thing facetious, they were sure to 
laugh exactly in the right place. The Baron, it is true, 
like most great men, was too dignified to utter any joke 
but a dull one ; it was always enforced, however, by a 
bumper of excellent hocheimer ; and even a dull joke, at 
one's own table, served up with jolly old wine, is irresis- 
tible. Many good things were said by poorer and keener 
wits, that would not bear repeating, except on similar 
occasions ; many sly speeches wliispered in ladies' ears, that 
almost convulsed them with suppressed laughter ; and a 
song or two roared out by a poor, but merry and broad- 
faced cousin of the Baron, that absolutely made the maiden 
aunts hold up their fans. 

Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest maintained 
a most singular and unseasonable gravity. His counte- 
nance assumed a deeper cast of dejection as the evening 
advanced ; and, strange as it may appear, even the Ba- 
ron's jokes seemed only to render him the more melan- 
choly. At times he was lost in thought, and at times 
there was a perturbed and restless wandering of the eye 
that bespoke a mind but ill at ease. His conversations 
with the bride became more and more earnest and mis- 
tcrious. Louring clouds began to steal over the fair sere- 
nity of her brow, and tremors to run through her tender 
frame. 

All this could not escape the notice of the company. 
Their gaiety was chilled by the unaccountable gloom of 
the bridegroom; their spirits were infected'; whispers 
and glances were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs 
and dubious shakes of the head. The song and the 
laugh grew less and less frequent ; there were dreary 
pauses in the conversation, which were at length succeed- 
ed by wild tales and supernatural legends. One dismal 
story produced another more dismal, and the Baron nearly 
frightened some of the ladies into hystericks with the his- 
tory of the goblin horseman that carried away the fair 
Leonora; a dreadful but true story, which has since been, 
put into excellent verse, and is read and believed by all 
the world. 

The bridegroom listened to this tale with profound at- 
tention. He kept his eyes steadily fixed on the Baron, 
and &s the story drew to a close, began gradually to rise 



20 BEAUTIES OP 

from his seat, growing taller and taller, until, in the Ba- 
ron's entranced eye, he seemed ahnost to tower into a 
giant. The moment the tale was finished, he heaved a 
deep sigh, and took a solemn farewell of the company. 
They were all amazement. The Baron was perfectly 
thunderstruck. 

" What I going to leave the castle at midnight 1 why, 
every thing was prepared for his reception; a chamber 
was ready for him if he wished to retire." 

The stranger shook his head mournfully and mysteri- 
ously ; "I must lay my head in a dlfterent chamber to- 
night !•' 

There was something in this reply, and the tone in 
which it was uttered, that made the Baron's heart mis- 
give him ; but he rallied his forces and repeated his hos- 
pitably entreaties. 

The stranger shook his head silently, but positively, at 
every offer; and, waving his farewell to the company, 
stalked slowly out of the hall. The maiden aunts were 
absolutely petrified — the bride hung her head, and a tear 
stole to her eye. 

The Baron followed the stranger to the great court of 
the castle, where the black charger stood pawing the earth, 
and snorting with impatience. — When they had reached 
the portal, whose deep archway was dimly lighted by a 
cresset, the stranger paused, and addressed the Baron in 
a hollow tone of voice, which the vaulted roof rendered 
stUl more sepulchral. 

" Now that we are alone," said he, " I will impart to 
you the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an indis- 
pensable engagement — " 

" Why," said the Baron, " cannot you send some one in 
your place '?" 

" It admits of no substitute — I must attend it in person — 
I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral — " 

"Ay," said the Baron, plucking up spirit, "but not 
until to-morrow^-4o-morrow you shall take your bride 
there." 

"No! no!" replied the stranger, with tenfold solem- 
nity, "my engagen^ent is writh no bride — the worms! 
the worms expect mei I am a dead man — I have been 
slain by robbers — my body lies at Wurtzburg — at mid- 
night I am to be buried — the grave is waiting for me — I 
must keep ray appointment !" 

He sprang on his black charger, dashed over the draw- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 21 

bridge, and the clattering of liis horse's hoofs was lost in 
the wJiistling of the night blast. 

The Baron returned to the hall in the utmost conster- 
nation, and related what had passed. Two ladies fainted 
outfight, others sickened at the idea of having banquet- 
ed with a spectre. It was the opinion of some, that 
this xnight be the wild huntsman, famous in German le- 
gend. Some talked of mountain sprites, of wood-demons, 
and of other supernatural beings, with which the good peo- 
ple of Germany have been so grievously harrassed since 
time immemorial. One of the poor relations ventured 
to suggest that it might be some sportive evasion of the 
young cavalier, and that the very gloominess of the ca- 
price seemed to accord with so melancholy a personage. 
This, however, drew on him the indignation of the whole 
company, and especially of the Baron, who looked upon 
him as httle better than an infidel ; so that he was fain 
to abjure his heresy as speedily as possible, and come into 
the faith of the true believers. 

But whatever may have been the doubts entertained, 
they were completely put an end to by the arrival, next 
day, of regular missives, confirming the intelligence of the 
young Count's murder, and his interment in Wurtzburg 
cathedral. 

The dismay at the castle may be well imagined. The 
Baron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests, 
who had come to rejoice with him, could not think of 
al)andoning him in his distress. They wandered about 
the courts, or collected in groups in the hall, shaking 
their heads and shrugging their shoulders, at the troubles 
of so good a man ; and sat longer than ever at table, and 
ate and drank more stoutly than ever, by way of keeping 
up their spirits. But the situation of the widowed bride 
was the most pitiable. To have lost a husband before 
she had even embraced him — and such a husband ! if 
the very spectre could be so gracious and noble, what 
must have been the living man 7 She filled the house with 
lamentations. 

On the night of the second day of her widowhood she 
had retired to her chamber, accompanied by one of her 
aunts, who insisted on sleeping with her. The aunt, 
who was one of the best tellers of ghost stories in all 
Germany, had just been recounting one of her longest, 
and had fallen asleep in the very midst of it. The cham- 
ber was remote, and overlooked a small garden. The 



22 BEAUTIES OF 

niece lay pensively gazing at the beams of the rising 
moon as they trembled on the leaves of an aspen tree be- 
fore the lattice. The castle clock had just tolled mid- 
night, when a soft strain of music stole up from the gar- 
den. She rose hastily from her bed, and stepped lightly 
to the window. A tall figure stood among the shadows 
of the trees. As it raised its head, a beam of moonlight 
fell upon the countenance. Heaven and earth ! she beheld 
the Spectre Bridegroom ! A loud shriek at that moment 
burst upon her ear, and her aunt who had been awakened 
by the music, and had followed her silently to the window, 
fell into her arms. When she looked again, the spectre 
had disappeared. 

Of the two females, the aunt required the most sooth- 
ing, for she was perfectly beside herself with terror. As 
to the young lady, there was something, even in the speC' 
tre of her lover, that seemed endearing. There was still 
the semblance of manly beauty ; and though the shadow 
of a man is but little calculated to satisfy the aifections of 
a love-sick girl, yet, where the substance is not to be had, 
even that is consoling. The aunt declared she would 
never sleep in that chamber again ; the niece, for once 
was refractory, and declared as strongly, that she would 
sleep in no other in the castle : the consequence was, that 
she had to sleep in it alone ; but she drew a promise from 
her aunt not to relate the story of the spectre, lest she 
should be denied the only melancholy pleasure left her on 
earth — that of inhabiting the chamber over which the 
guardian shade of her lover kept its nightly vigils. 

How long the good old lady would have observed this 
promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk of the 
marvellous, and there is a triumph in being the first to 
tell a frightful story ; it is, however, still quoted in the 
neighbourhood, as a memorable instance of female secrecy, 
that she kept it to herself for a whole week; when she was 
suddenly absolved from all further restraint, by intelli- 
gence brought to the breakfast table one morning that 
the young lady was not to be found. Her room was 
empty — the bed had not been slept in — the window was 
open, and the bird had flown ! 

The astonishment and concern with which the intelli- 

fence was received, can only be imagined by those who 
ave witnessed the agitation which the mishaps of agreatr 
man cause among his friends. Even the poor relations 
paused for a moment from the indefatigable labours of the 



Washington irving. 23 

trencher ; when the aunt, who had at first been struck 
speechless, wrung her hands, and shrieked out, " The 
goblin ! the gobhn ! she's carried away by the goblin !" 

In a few words she related the fearful scene of the 
garden, and concluded that the spectre must have carried 
off liis bride. Two of the domestics corroborated the 
opinion, for they heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs 
down the mountain about midniglit, and had no doubt 
that it was the spectre on his black charger, bearing her 
away to the tomb. All present were struck with the 
direful probability; for events of the kind are extremely 
common in Germany, as many well authenticated histories 
bear witness. 

What a lamentable situation was that of the poor Ba- 
ron! What a heart-rending dilemna for a fond father, 
and a member of the great family of Katzenellenbogen ! 
His only daughter had either been wrapt away to the 
grave, or he was to have some wood-demon for a son-in- 
law, and, perchance, a troop of goblin grand children! 
As usual, he was completely bewildered, and all the cas- 
tle in an uproar. The men were ordered to take horse, 
and scour every road and path and glen of the Oden- 
wald. The Baron himself had just drawn on his jack- 
boots, girded on his sword, and was about to mount his 
steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest, when he was 
brought to a pause by a new apparitio'n. A lady was 
seen approaching the castle, mounted on a palfray, at- 
tended by a cavalier on horseback. She galloped up to 
the gate, sprang from her horse, and falling at the Ba- 
ron's feet, embraced his knees. It was his lost daugh- 
ter, and her companion — the Spectre Bridegroom! The 
Baron was astonished. He looked at Iris daughter, then 
at the spectre, and almost doubted the evidence of his 
senses. The latter, too, was wonderfully improved in 
his appearance, since his visit to the world of spirits. 
His dress was splendid, and set off a noble figure of man- 
ly symmetry. He was no longer pale and melancholy. 
His fine coun enance was flushed with the glow of youth, 
and joy rioted in his large dark eye. 

The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier, (for 
in truth, as you must have known all the while, he was 
no goblin,) announced himself as Sir Hennon Von Stark- 
enfaust. He related his adventure with the young 
Coruit. He told how he had hastened to the castle to 
deliver the unwelcome tidings, bat that the eloquence of 



24 BEAUTIES OF 

the Baron had interrupted him in every attempt to tell 
his tale. How the sight of the bride had completely 
captivated him, and that to pass a few hours near her, 
he had tacitly suffered the mistake to continue. How 
he had been sorely perplexed in what way to make a de- 
cent retreat, until the Baron's goblin stories had suggest- 
ed his eccentric exit. How, fearing the feudal hostility 
of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth — had 
haunted the garden beneath the young lady's window — 
had wooed — had won — had borne away in triumph — 
and, in a word, had wedded the fair. 

Under any other circumstances, the Baron would 
have been inflexible, for he was tenacious of paternal 
authority, and devoutly obstinate in all family feuds ; but 
he loved his daughter ; he had lamented her as lost ; he 
rejoiced to find her still alive ; and, though her husband 
was of a hostile house, yet, thank heaven, he was not a 
goblin. There was something, it must be acknowledged, 
that did not exactly accord with his notions of strict vera- 
city, in the joke the knight had passed upon him of his 
being a dead man ; but several old friends present, who 
had served in the wars, assured him that every stratagem 
was excusable in love, and that the cavalier was entitled to 
especial privilege, having lately served as a trooper. 

Matters, theiefore, were happily arranged. The Baron 
pardoned the young couple on the spot. The revels at 
the castle were resumed. The poor relations overwhelmed 
this new member of the family with loving-kindness ; he 
was so gallant, so generous — and so rich. The aunts, it 
is true, were somewhat scandalized that their system of 
strict seclusion, and passive obedience, should be so badly 
exemplified, but attributed it all to their negligence in not 
having the windows grated. One of them was particu- 
larly mortified at having her marvellous story marred, and 
that the only spectre she had ever seen should turn out a 
counterfeit ; but the niece seemed perfectly happy at hav- 
ing found him substantial flesh and blood — and so the story 
ends. 



A WET SUNDAY JN A COUNTRY INN. 

It was a rainy Sunday, in the gloomy month of Novera-. 
ber. I had been detained, in the course of a journey, by 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 25 

a slight indisposition, from which I was recovering; but 
I was still feverish, and was obliged to keep within doors 
all day, in an inn of the small town of Derby. A wet 
Sunday in a country inn ! whoever has had the luck to 
experience one can alone judge of my situation. The rain 
pattered against the casements ; the bells tolled for church 
with melancholy sound. I went to the windows in quest 
of something to amuse the eye ; but it seemed as if I had 
been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement. 
The windows of my bed-room looked out among tiled 
roofs and stacks of chimneys, while those of my sitting- 
room commanded a full view of the stable-yard. I know 
of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of this 
world than a stable-yard on a rainy day. The place was 
littered with wet straw that had been kicked about by 
travellers and stable-boys. In one corner was a stagnant 
pool of water, surrounding an island of muck; there 
were several half-drowned fowls crowded together under 
a cart, among which was a miserable crest-fallen cock, 
drenched out of all life and spirit ; his drooping tail mat- 
ted, as it were, into a single feather, along which the water 
trickled from his back ; near the cart was a half-dozing 
cow, chewing the cud, and standing patiently to be rained 
on, with wreaths of vapour rising from her reeking hide ; 
a wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness of the stable, 
was poking his spectral head out of a window, with 
the rain dripping on it from the eaves : an unhappy 
cur, chained to a doghouse hard by, uttered something 
every now and then, between a bark and a yelp ; a drab 
of a kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards 
through the yard in pattens, looking as sulky as the wea- 
ther itself; every thing, in short, was comfortless and 
forlorn, excepting a crew of hard-drinking ducks, assem- 
bled like boon companions round a puddle, and making 
a riotous noise over their liquor. 

I was lonely and Hstless, and wanted amusement. 
My room soon became insupportable. I abandoned it, 
and sought what is technically called the traveller' s-room. 
This is a public room set apart at most inns for the ac- 
commodation of a class of wayfarers, called travellers, or 
riders ; a kind of commercial knights errant, who are in- 
cessantly scouring the kingdom in gigs, on horseback, or 
by coach. They are the only successors that I know of, 
at the present day, to the knights errant of yore. They 
lead the same kind of roving adventurous Ufe, only chang- 

3 



26 BEAUTIES OF 

ing the lance for a driving-whip, the buckler fat a paftei^ 
card, and the coat of mail for an upper Benjamin, fnsteiad 
of vindicating the charms of peerless beauty, they roV6" 
about, spreading the fame and standing of some sub-* 
stantial tradesman, or manufacturer, and are ready at 
any time to bargain in his name; it being the fashion 
now-a-days to trade, instead of fight, vdth one another. 
As the room of tbe hostel, in the good old fighting times, 
would be hung round at night with the armour of way- 
worn warriors, such as coats of mail, falchions, and yawn- 
ing helmets ; so the travellers' room is garnished with the 
harnessing of their successors, with box coats, whips of 
all kinds, spurs, gaiters, and oil cloth covered hats. 

I was in hopes of finding some of these worthies to talk 
with, but was disappointed. There were, indeed, two 
or three in the room ; but I could make nothing of them. 
One was just finishing breakfast, quarrelling with his 
bread and butter, and huffing the waiter ; another but- 
toned on a pair of gaiters, with many execrations at Boots 
for not having cleaned his shoes well; a third sat drum- 
ming on the table with his fingers, and looking at the 
rain as it streamed down the vsdndow glass : they all ap- 
peared infected by the weather, and disappeared, one 
after the other, without exchanging a word. 

I sauntered to the window and stood gazing at the 
people, picking their way to the church, with petticoats 
hoisted midleg high, and dripping umbrellas. The bell 
ceased to toll, and the streets became silent. I then amu- 
sed myself with watching the daughters of a tradesman 
opposite ; who being confined to the house for fear of 
wetting their Sunday finery, played off their charms at 
the front windows, to fascinate the chance tenants of the 
inn. They at length were summoned away by a vigi- 
lant vinegar-faced mother, and I had nothing further 
from without to amuse me. 

What was I to do to pass away the long-lived day 7 I 
was sadly nervous and lonely ; and every thing about an 
inn seems calculated to make a dull day ten times duller. 
Old newspapers, smelling of beer and tobacco smoke, and 
which I had already read half a dozen times. Good for 
nothing books, that were worse than rainy weather. I 
bored myself to death with an old volume of the Lady's 
Magazine. I read all the common-place names of ambi- 
tious travellers scrawled on the panes of glass ; the eter- 
nal families of the Smiths and the Browns, and the Jack- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 27 

sons, and the Johnsons, and all the other sons; and I 
decyphered several scraps of fatiguing inn-window poetry, 
which I have met with in all parts of the world. 

The day continued lowering and gloomy ; the slovenly, 
ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily along ; there was no 
variety even in the rain ; it was one dull, continued, mo- 
notonous patter — patter — patter, excepting that now and 
then I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, from 
the rattliiig of the drops upon a passing umbrella. 

It was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a hack- 
neyed phrase of the day^ when, in the course of the 
morninir, a horn blew, and a stage coach whirled throuorh 
the street, with outside passengers stuck all over it, cow- 
ering under cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, and 
reeking with the steams of wet box-coats and upper Ben- 
jamins. 

The sound brouglit out from their lurking-places a 
crew of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the car- 
roty-headed hostler, and that non-descript animal ycleped 
Boots, and all the other vagabond race, that infest the 
purlieus of an inn ; but the bustle was transient ; the 
coach again whirled on its way; and boy and dog, hos- 
tler and Boots, all slunk back again to their holes ; the 
street again became silent, and the rain continued to rain 
on. In faci;, there was no hope of its clearing up, the 
barometer pointed to rainy weather; mine hostess's tor- 
toise shell cat sat by the fire washing her face, and rub- 
bing her paws over her ears ; and, on referring to the 
Almanack, I found a direful prediction stretching from 
the top of the page to the bottom through the whole 
month, " expect — much — rain — about — this — time !" 



AN OBEDIENT HEN-PECKED HUSBAND. 

In that same village, and in one of these verjr houses, 
(which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn 
and weather beaten,) there lived many years since, when 
the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a sim- 
ple good-natured iellow, of the name of Rip Van Win- 
kle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who 
figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuy- 
vesant, and accompanied him to the seige of Fort Chris- 
tina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial 



BEAUTIES OP 

character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was 
a simple good-natured man ; he was, moreover, a kind 
neighbour, and an obedient licn-pecked husband. In- 
deed, to the latter circumstance niip-ht be owino- that 
meekness of spirit which gained him such universal po- 
pularity ; for tliose men are most a|)t to be obsequious and 
conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews 
at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant 
and maleable in the fieiy furnace of domestic tribulation, 
and a curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the 
world for teaching the virtues of patience and long suf- 
fering. A termagent wife may, therefore, in some respects, 
be considered a tolerable blessing ; and if so, Rip Van 
Winkle was thrice blessed. 

Certain it is, that he was a great favourite among all 
the good wives of the village, who, as usual with the ami- 
able sex, took his part in all family squabbles ; and never 
failed, whenever they talked those matters over in their 
evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van 
Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout 
with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at their 
sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly kites 
and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, 
witches, and Indians. Whenever he went aodging a"t)out 
the village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hang- 
ing on his skirts, clambering on his back, and plajang 
a thousand tricks on him wilh impunity; and not a dog 
would bark at him throucrhout the neicrhbourhood. 

The great error in Rip's composition was an insupe- 
rable aversion to all kinds of profitable labour. It could 
not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance • for 
he would set on a wet rock, with a rod as long and hea- 
vy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a mur- 
mer, even though he should not be encouraged by a sin- 
ble nibble. He would carry a fowling piece on his 
shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods and 
swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squir- 
rels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a 
neighbour even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost 
man at all country frolics for husking Indian corn, or 
building stone fences; the women of the village, too, used 
to employ him to run their errands, and to do such little 
odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for 
them. — In a word, Rip was ready to attend to any body's 



WAgHINGTON IRVING. 29 

business but his own ; but as to doing family duty, and 
keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. 

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his 
farm; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in 
the whole country; every thing about it went wrong, 
and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were 
continually falling to pieces ; his cow would either go 
astray, or get among the cabbages; weeds were sure to 
grow quicker in his field than anywhere else; the rain 
always made a point of setting in just as he had some 
out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial es- 
tate had dwindled away under his management, acre by 
acre, until there was little more left than a mere patch 
of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worse con- 
ditioned farm in the neighbourhood. 

His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they 
"belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten 
in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits with 
the old clothes of his father. He was generally seen 
trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a 
pair of his father's cast off galligaskins, which he had 
much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does 
her train in bad weather. 

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy 
mortals, of foolish, well oiled dispositions, who take the 
world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be 
got with the least thought or trouble, and would rather 
starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to 
himself he would have whistled life away in perfect con- 
tentment; but his wife kept continually dinning in his 
ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he 
was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night, 
her tongue was incessantly going, and every thing he said 
or did was sure to produce a torrent of household elo- 
quence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures 
of the kind, and that, by frequent use, had got into a 
habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast 
up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always 
provoked a fresh volley from his wife ; so that he was 
fain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of the 
house — the only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen- 
pecked husband. 

Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog "Wolf, who 
was as much henpecked as his master; for Dame Van 
Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, an(i 

3* 



30 BEAUTIES OF 

even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause 
of his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all 
points of spirit befitting an honourable dog, he was as 
courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods — ^but 
what courage can withstand the ever-during and all be- 
settincr terrors of a woman's tongue 1 The moment 
Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail dropped to 
the ground or curled between his legs, he sneaked about 
with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at 
Dame Van Winkle, and at the least fiourish of a broom- 
stick or ladle, he would fly to the door with yelping 
precipitation. 

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle 
as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never 
mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged 
tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long 
while he used to console himself, when driven from 
home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sa- 
ges, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village; 
which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, 
designated by a rubicundportrait of His Majesty George 
the Tliird. Here they used to sit in the shade, of a 
long lazy summer's day, talking listlessly over village 
gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. 
But it would have been worth any statesman's money 
to have heard the profound discussions that sometimes 
took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell inio 
their hands from some passing traveller. How solemn- 
ly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by 
Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned 
little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gi- 
gantic word in the dictionary ; and how sagely they 
would deliberate upon public events some months after 
they had taken place. 

The opinions of this junto were completel}' controlled 
by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and land- 
lord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat 
from morning till night, just mo\ang sufficiently to avoid 
the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that 
the neighbours could tell the hour by his movements as ac- 
curately as by a sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard 
to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His adhe- 
rents, however, (for every great man has his adherents,) 
perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his 
opinions. When any thing that was read or related dis- 



WASHINGTON IRVING 31 

pleased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehe- 
mently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry puffs ; 
but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke slowly and 
tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds ; and 
sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting 
the fragrant vapour curl about his nose, would gravely 
nod his head in token of perfect approbation. 

From even this strong hold the unlucky Rip was at 
length routed by his termagent wife, who would suddenly 
break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call 
the members all to nought ; nor wis that august person- 
age, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring 
tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him outright 
with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness. 

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and 
his only alternative, to escape from the labour of the 
farm and clamour of his wife, was to take gun in hand 
and stroll away into the woods. Here he would some- 
times seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the 
contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sym- 
pathized as a fellow-sutferer in persecution. " Poor wolf," 
he would say, "thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it; 
but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never 
want a friend to stand by thee !" Wolf would wag his 
tail, look wistfully in his master's face, and if dogs can 
feel pity, I verily beUeve he reciprocated the sentiment 
with all his heart. 



A DESIRABLE MATCH 

Among the musical disciples who assembled, one even- 
ing in each week, to receive his (Ichabod Crane's) in- 
structions in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the 
daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. 
She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen; plump as a 
partridge ; ripe and melting and rosy cheeked as one of 
her father's peaches, and vmiversally famed, not merely for 
her beauty, but her vast expectations. She was v^ithal a 
little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her 
dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern fa- 
shions, as most suited to set off her charms. She wore 
the ornaments of pure yellow gold, which her great-great- 
grandmother had brought over from Saardum ; the tempt- 



32 BEAUTIES OF 

ing stomacher of the olden time ; and withal a provo- 
kingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest foot and 
ankle in the country round. 

Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart toward 
the sex ; and it is not to be wondered at, that so tempt- 
ing a morsel soon found favour in his eyes ; more espe- 
cially after he had visited her in h er paternal mansion. Old 
Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a thriving, 
contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He seldom, it is true, 
sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries 
of his own farm ; but within those every thing was snug, 
happy, and well-conditioned. He was satisfied with his 
wealth but not proud of it; and piqued himself upon the 
hearty abundance, rather than the style in which he lived, 
His strong hold was situated on the banks of the Hud- 
son, in one of those green, sheltered, fertile nooks, in 
which the Dutch farmers are so fond of nestling. A 
great elm-tree spread its broad branches over it ; at the 
foot of which bubbled up a spring of the softest and sweet- 
est water, in a little well, formed of a barrel ; and then 
stole sparkling away through the grass, to a neighbouring 
brook, that babbled along among alders and dwarf willows. 
Hard by the farm house was a vast barn, that might 
have served for a church ; every window and crevice of 
which seemed bursting forth with the treasures of the 
farm; the flail was busily resounding within from morn- 
ing to night ; swallows and martins skimmed twitter- 
ing about the eaves ; and rows of pigeons, some wdtb one 
eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with 
their heads under their wings, or buried in their bosoms, 
and others swelling and cooing and bowing, about their 
dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek 
unweildy porkers were grunting in the repose and abun- 
' dance of their pens ; from whence sallied forth, now and 
then, troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the air. A 
stately squadron of snowy geese were riding in an ad- 
joining pond, convoying whole fleets of ducks ; regiments 
of turkeys were gobbling through the farm-yard, and 
guinea fowls fretting about it, like ill-tempered house- 
wives, with their peevish discontented cry. Before the 
barn door strutted the gallant cock, that pattern of a 
husband, a warrior, and a fine gentleman ; clapping his 
burnished wings, and crowdng in the pride and gladness 
of his heart — sometimes tearing up the earth with his 
feet, and then generously calling his ever hungry family 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 33 

of wives and children to enjoy the rich morsel which he 
had discovered. 

The pedagogue's mouth watered, as he looked upon 
this sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In 
his devouring mind's eye, he pictured to himself every 
roasting })ig running about with a pudding in its belly, 
and an apple in its mouth; the pigeons were snugly put 
to bed in a comfertable pie, and tucked in with a cover- 
let of crust ; the geese were swimming in their own gra- 
vy ; and the ducks pairing cosily in dishes, like snug 
married couples, with a decent competency of onion 
sauce. In the porkers he saw carved out the future 
sleek side of bacon, and juicy relishing ham ; not a tur- 
key, but he beheld daintily trussed up, with its gizzard 
under its wing, and, pcradventure, a necklace of savoury 
sausages ; and even bright chanticleer liimself lay sprawl- 
ing on his back, in a side dish, with uplifted claws as 
if craving that quarter, wliich his chivalric spirit disdain- 
ed to ask while living. 

As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he 
rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands, 
the rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and In- 
dian corn, and the orchards burthened with ruddy fruit, 
which surrounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, 
his heart yearned after the damsel who was to inherit 
these domains, and his imagination expanded with the 
idea, how they might be readily turned into cash, and the 
money invested in immense tracts of wild land, and shin- 
gle palaces in the wilderness. Nay, his busy fancy al- 
ready realized his hopes, and presented to him the bloom- 
ing Katrina, with a whole family of children, mounted 
on the top of a wagon loaded with household trumpery, 
with pots and kettles dangling beneath ; and he beheld 
himself bestriding a pacing mare, with acoltather heels, 
setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Lord knows 
where. 

A Rival. 

Among these the most formidable was a burly, roaring, 
roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or according 
to the Dutch abbreviation, Btom Van Brunt, the hero of 
the countrv round, which runo- with his feats of strength 
and hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double- 
jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluif, but not 



34 BEAUTIES OF 

unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and 
arrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers 
of limb, he had received the nick-name of Brom Bones, 
by which he was universally known. He was famed for 
great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dex- 
terous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at 
all races and cock-fights ; and, with the ascendency which 
bodily strength always acquires in rustic life, was the 
umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one side, and 
giving his decisions with an air and tone that admitted 
of no gainsay or appeal. He was always ready for either 
a fight or a frolic; had more mischief than ill-will in his 
composition; and with all his overbearing roughness, 
there was a strong dash of waggish good humour at bot- 
tom. He had three or four boon companions of his own 
stamp, who regarded him as their model, and at the head 
of whom he scoured the country, attending every scene 
of feud or merriment for miles round In cold weather 
he was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a 
flaunting fox's tail; and when the folks at a country 
gathering descried this well-known crest at a distance, 
whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they al- 
ways stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would 
be heard dashing along past the ferm houses at midnight, 
with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks ; 
and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen 
for a moment till the hurry-skurry had clattered by, and 
then exclaim, "Aye there goes Brom Bones and his 
gang !" The neighbours looked upon him with a mixture 
of awe, admiration, and good- will ; and when any mad-cap 
prank, or rustic brawl, occurred in the vicinity, always 
shook their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at the 
bottom of it. 

This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the 
blooming Kalrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries, 
and though his amourous toyings were something like the 
gentle caresses and endearments of a bear, yet it was 
whispered that she did not altogether discourage his hopes. 
Certain it is, his advances were signals for rival candidates 
to retire, who felt no mclination to cross a lion m his 
amours ; insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to 
Van Ta-ssel's paUng, on a Sunday night, a sure sign that 
his master was courting, or, as it is termed, " sparking," 
within, all other suitors passed by in despair, and earned 
the war into other quarters. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 35 

Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod 
Crane had to contend, and, considering all things, a stout- 
er man than he would have shrunk from the competition, 
and a wiser man would have despaired. He had, a happy 
mixture of pliability and perseverance in his nature ; he 
was in form and spirit like a supple jack — 'yielding, but 
tough ; though he bent, he never broke ; and though he 
bowed, beneath the slightest pressure, yet, the mo men tit 
was away, jerk I — ^he was erect, and carried his head as 
high as ever. 

Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his na- 
ture, would fain have carried matters to open warfare, 
and have settled their pretensions to the lady, acx^ording 
to the mode of those most consise and simple reasoners, 
the knights-errant of yore — by single combat ; but Icha- 
bod was too conscious of the superior might of his ad- 
versary to enter the lists against him : he had overheard the 
boast of Bones, that he would " double the schoolmaster 
up, and put him on a shelf;" and he was too wary to 
give him an opportunity. There was somethiHg extreme- 
ly provoking in this obstinately pacific system; it left 
Brom no alternative but to draw upon the funds of rus- 
tic waggery in his disposition, and to play off boorish 
practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod became the ob- 
ject of wliimsical persecution to Bones, and his gang of 
rough riders. They harried his hitherto peaceful do- 
mains ; smoked out his singing school, by stopping up 
the chimney; broke into the schoolhouse at night, in 
spite of his formidable fastenings of withes and window 
stakes, and turned every thing topsy-turvy ; so that the 
poor schoolmaster began to think all the witches in the 
country held their meetings there. But what was still 
more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning 
him into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a 
scoundrel dog whom he taught to whine in the most lu- 
dicrous manner, and introduced as a rival of Ichabod's 
t© instruct her in psahnody. 

An Invitation, 

In this way matters went on for some time, without 
producing any material effect on the relative situations of 
the contending powers. On a fine autumnal afternoon, 
Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on the lofty stool 
from whence he usually watched all the concerns of his 



36 BEAUTIES OP 

little literary realm. In his hand he swayed a ferule, 
that sceptre of despotic power ; the birch of justice re- 
posed on three nails, behind a throne, a constant terror 
to evil doers ; v/hile on the desk before him might be seen 
sundry contraband articles and prohibited weapons, de- 
tected upon the persons of idle urchins ; such as half- 
munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole 
legions of rampant little paper game cocks. Apparently 
there had been some appalling act of justice recently in- 
flicted, for his scholars were all busily intent upon their 
books, or slyly whispering behind them with one eye kept 
upon the master ; and a kind of buzzing stillness reigned 
throughout the school-room. It was suddenly interrupted 
by the appearance of a negro in tow-cloth jacket and trow- 
sers, a round crowned fragment of a hat, hke the cap of 
Mercury, and mounted on the buck of a ragged, wild, 
half-broken colt, which he managed with a rope by way 
of halter. He came clattering up to the school door with 
an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merry meeting, or 
" quilting frolic," to be held that evening at Mynheer 
Van Tassel's; and having delivered liis message with that 
air of importance, and eftbrt at fine language, which a 
negro is apt to display on petty embassies of the kind, he 
dashed over the brook, and was seen scampering away up 
the hollow, full of the importance and hurry of his mis- 
sion. 

All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet school- 
room. The scholars were hurried through their lessons, 
without stopping at trifles ; those who were nimble, skip- 
ped over half with impunity, and those who were tardy, 
had a smart application now and then in the rear, to 
quicken their speed, or help them over a tall word. Books 
were flung aside, without being put away on the shelves ; 
inkstands were overturned ; benches thrown down ; and 
the whole school was turned loose an hour before the 
usual time ; bursting forth like a legion of young imps, 
yelping and racketting about the green, in joy at their early 
emancipation. 

A Dutch Entertainment. 

Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and 
"sugared suppositions," he journeyed along the sides of 
a range of liills which look out upon some of the goodliest 
scenes of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually wheele^^ 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 87 

his broad disk down into the west. The wide bosom of 
the Tappaan Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting 
tliat here and there a gentle midulation waved and pro- 
longed the blue shadow of tlie distant momitain. A few 
amber clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air 
to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, 
changing gradually into a pure apple green, and from 
that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven. A slanting 
ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that 
overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to 
the dark gray and purple of their rocky sides. A sloop 
was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly down with 
the tide, her sail hanging uselessly against the mast ; and 
as the reflection of the sky gleamed along the still water, 
it seemed as if the vessel was suspended in the air. 

It was towards evening that Ichabod arrived at the 
castle of the Heer Van Tassel, which he found thronged 
with the pride and flower of the adjacent country. Old 
farmers, a spare leathern-faced race, in homespun coats 
and breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, and magnificent 
pewter buckles. Their brisk, withered little dames, in 
close crimped caps, long-waisted gowns, homespun petti- 
coats, with scissors and pincushions, and gay calico pock- 
ets hanging on the outside. Buxom lasses, almost as 
antiquated as their mothers, excepting where a straw hat, 
a fine riband, or perhaps a white frock, gave symptoms 
of city innovations. The sons, in short square-skirted 
coats, with rows of stupendous brass buttons, and their 
hair generally queued in the fashion of the times, especi- 
ally if they could procure an eelskin for the purpose, it 
being esteemed throughout the country, as a potent 
nourisher and strengthener of the hair. 

Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, hav- 
ing come to the gathering on his favourite steed Dare- 
devil, a creature, like himself, full of mettle and mischief, 
and which no one but himself could manage. He was, in 
fact, noted for preferring vicious animals, given to all 
kinds of tricks which kept the rider in constant risk of 
his neck, for he held a tractable well broken horse as un- 
worthy a lad of spirit. 

Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms 
that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he 
entered the state parlour of Van Tassel's mansion. Not 
those of the bevy of buxom lasses, with their luxurious 
display of red and white ; but the ample charms of a ge- 

4 



38 BEAUTIES OF 

unine Dutch country tea-table, in the sumptuous thne of 
autumn. Such heaped up platters of cakes, of various and 
almost indescribable kinds, known only to experienced 
Dutch housewives ! There was the doughty dough-nut, 
the tenderer oly koek, and the crisp and crumbling crul- 
ler ; sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and honey 
cakes, and the whole family of cakes. And then there were 
apple pies, and peach pies, and pumpkin pies ; besides slices 
of ham and smoke beef; and moreover delectable dishes 
of preserved plums, and peaches, and pears, and quinces ; 
not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens ; together 
with bowls of milk and cream ; all mingled higgeldy-pig- 
geldy, pretty much as I have enumerated them, with the 
motherly tea-pot sending up its clouds of vapour from the 
midst — Heaven bless the mark ! I want breath and time 
to discuss this banquet as it deserves, and am too eager 
to get on with my story. Happily Ichabod Crane was not 
in so great a hurry as his historian, but did ample justice 
to every dainty. 

He was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart dilated 
in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer ; and 
whose spirits rose with eating as some men's do with 
drink. He could not help, too, rolling his large eyes 
round him as he ate, and chuckling with the possibility 
that he might one day be lord of all this scene of almost 
unimaginable luxury and splendour. Then, he thought, 
how soon he'd turn his back upon the old school house ; 
snap his finger in the flice of Hans Van Ripper, and every 
other niggardly patron, and kick any itinerant pedagogue 
out of doors that should dare to call him comrade ! 

Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests 
with a face dilated with content and good humour, round 
and jolly as the harvest moon. His hospitable attentions 
were brief, but expressive, being confined to a shake of 
the hand, a slap on the shoulder, a loud laugh, and a 
pressing invitation to "fall to, and help themselves." 

Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as 
upon his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about him 
was idle ; and to have seen his loosely hung frame in full 
motion, and clattering about the room, you would have 
thought Saint Vitus himself, that blessed patron of the 
dance, was figuring before you in person. He was the 
admiration of all the negroes ; who, having gathered, of all 
ages and sizes, from the farm and the neighbourhood, stood 
forming a pyramid of shining black faces at every door and 



WASHINGTON IRVING 39 

window ; gazing with delight at the scene ; rolling their 
white eye-balls, and showing grinning rows of ivory from 
ear to ear. How could the tlogger of urchins be other- 
wise than animated and joyous? the lady of his heart 
was his partner in the dance, and smiling graciously in re- 
ply to all his amorous oglings ; while Brom Bones, sorely 
smitten with love and jealousy, sat brooding by himself in 
one corner. 



WAR. 



The first conflict between man and man was the mere 
exertion of physical force, unaided by auxiliary weapons, 
— his arm was his buckler, his fist was his mace, and a 
broken head the catastrophe of his encounters. The bat- 
tle of unassisted strength was succeeded by the more rug- 
ged one of stones and clubs, and war assumed a sangui- 
nary aspect. As man advanced in refinement, as his fa- 
culties expanded, and his sensibilities became more exqui- 
site, he grew rapidly more ingenious and experienced in 
the art of murdering his fellow beinffs. He invented a 
thousand devices to defend and to assault — the helmet, 
the cuirass, and the buckler, the sword, the dart, and the 
javelin, prepared him to elude the wound, as well as to 
launch the blow. Still urging on, in the brilliant and 
philanthropic career of invention, he enlarges and heigh- 
tens his powers of defence and injury. — The aries, the 
scorpio, the balista, and the catapulta, give a horror and 
sublimity to war; and magnify its glory, by increasing its 
desolation- Still insatiable, though armed with machinery 
that seemed to reach the limits of destructive invention, 
and to yield a power of injury, commensurate even with 
the desires of revenge — still deeper researches must be 
made in the diabolical arcana. With furious zeal he dives 
into the bowels of the earth; he toils midst poisonous mi- 
nerals and deadly salts — the sublime discovery of gunpow- 
der blazes upon the world — and, finally, the dreadful art 
of fighting by proclamation seems to endow the demon 
of war with ubiquity and omnipotence. 

This, indeed, is grand! — this, indeed, marks the powers 
of mind, and bespeaks that divine endowment of reason, 
which distinguishes us from the animals, our inferiors. 
The unenlightened brutes content themselves with the 



40 BEAX7TIES OP 

native force which providence has assigned them. The 
angry bull butts vvdth his horns, as did his progenitors be- 
fore him — the lion, the leopard, and the tiger, seek only 
with their talons and their fangs to gratify their sangui- 
nary fury ; and even the subtle serpent darts the same ve- 
nom, and uses the same wiles as did his sire before the flood. 
Man alone, blessed with the inventive mind, goes on from 
discovery to discovery — enlarges and multiplies his powers 
of destruction; arrogates the tremendous weapons of Deity 
itself, and tasks creation to assist him in murdering his 
brother worm. 



ENGLISH STAGE COACHMEN. 

And here, perhaps, it may not be unacceptable to my 
untravelled readers to have a sketch that may serve as a 
general representation of this very numerous and impor- 
tant class of functionaries, who have a dress, a manner, 
a language, an air, pecuhar to themselves, and prevalent 
throughout the fraternity : so that, wherever an English 
stage Coachman may be seen, he cannot be mistaken for 
one of any other craft or mystery. 

He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled 
with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding 
into every vessel of the skin ; he is swelled into jolly di- 
mensions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and his 
bulk is still further increased by a multiplicity of coats, in 
which he is buried hke a cauliflower, the upper one reach- 
ing to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed low-crown- 
ed hat ; a huge roll of coloured handkerchief about his 
neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom ; and 
has, in summer time, a large bouquet of flowers in his but- 
ton-hole; the present, most probably, of some enamoured 
country lass. His waistcoat is commonly of some bright 
colour, striped, and his small-clothes extend far below the 
knees, to meet a pair of jocky boots which reach about 
half way up his legs. 

All this costume is maintained with much precision; 
he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent materials; 
and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appear- 
ance, there is still discernible that neatness and propriety 
of person, which is almost inherent in an EngUshman. 
He enjoys great consequence and consideration along the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 41 

road ; has frequent conferences with the village house- 
wives, who took upon him as a man of great trust and de- 
pendence ; and he seems to have a good understanding 
with every bright-eyed country lass. The moment he 
arrives where the horses are to be changed, he throws 
down the reins with something of an air, and abandons 
the cattle to the care of the hostler; liis duty being merely 
to drive from one stage to another. When off' the box, 
his hands are thrust into the pockets of his great coat, and 
he rolls about the inn yard with an air of the most absolute 
lordliness. Here he is generally surrounded by an admi- 
ring throng of hostlers, stable-boys, shoeblacks, and those 
nameless hangers-on, that infest inns and taverns, and 
run errands, and do all kind of odd jobs for the privilege 
of battening on the drippings of the kitchen and the leak- 
age of the tap-room. These all look up to him as to an 
oracle; treasure up his cant phrases; echo his opinions 
about horses and other topics of jocky lore; and above all, 
endeavour to imitate his air and carriage. Every raga- 
muffin that has a coat to his back, thrusts his hands in 
the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an embryo 
Coachey. 



THE WALTZ. 

As many of the retired matrons of this city, unskilled 
in " gestic lore," are doubtless ignorant of the movements 
and figures of this modest exhibition, I will endeavour 
to give some account of it in order that they may learn 
what odd capers their daughters sometimes cut when from 
under their guardian wings. — On a signal being given by 
the music, the gentleman seizes the lady round her waist ; 
the lady scorning to be out-done in courtesy, very politely 
takes the gentleman round the neck, with one arm resting 
against his shoulder to prevent encroachments. Away 
then they go, about, and about, and about — "About what, 
sir 7" — About the room, madam, to be sure. The whole 
economy of this dance consists in turning round and 
round the room in a certain measured step, and it is truly 
astonishing that this continued revolution does not set all 
their heads swimming like a top ; but I have been posi- 
tively assured that it only occasions a gentle sensation 
which is marvellously agreeable. In the course of thia 

4* 



42 BEAUTIES or 

circumnavigation, the dancers, in order to give the charm 
of variety are continually changing their relative situations, 
■ — now the gentleman, meaning no harm in the world, 
I assure you, madam, carelessly flings his arm about the 
lady's neck, with an air of celestial impudence ; and anon, 
the lady, meaning as little harm as the gentleman, takes 
him round the waist with most ingenious modest lan- 
guishmcnt, to the great delight of numerous spectators 
and amateurs, who generally form a ring, as the mob do 
about a pair of amazons pulling caps, or a couple of fight- 
ing mastitis. — After continuing this divine interchange 
of hands, arms, et cetera, for half an hour or so, the lady 
begins to tire, and "with eyes upraised," in most bewitch- 
ing languor, petitions her partner for a little more support. 
This is always given without hesitation. The lady leans 
gently on his shoulder ; their arms entwine in a thousand 
seducing, mischievous curves — don't be alarmed, madam — 
closer and closer they approach each other, and in conclusion, 
the parties being overcome with ecstatic fatigue, the lady 
seems almost sinking into the gentleman's arms, and then 

"Well, sir ! what then I — Lord ! madam how 

should I know. 



DUTCH TEA PARTIES 

These fashionable parties were generally consigned to 
the higher classes, or noblesse, that is to say, such as 
kept their own cows, and drove their own wagons. The 
company commonly assembled at three o'clock, and went 
away about six, unless it was in winter time, when the 
fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies 
might get home before dark, I do not find that they 
ever treated tlieir company to iced creams, jellies, or 
syllabubs ; or regaled them with musty almonds, mouldy 
raisins, or sour oranges, as is often done in the present 
age of refinement. Our ancestors were fond of more 
sturdy, substantial fare. The tea-table was crowned 
with a huge earthen dish, well stored with slices of fat 
pork, fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming 
in gravy. The company being seated round the genial 
board, and each furnished with a fork, evinced their 
dexterity in launching at the fattest pieces in this mighty 
.dish, in much the same manner as sailors harpoon per- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. ^ 43 

poises at sea, or our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. 
Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple 
pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears ; but 
it was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of 
sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat, and called dough 
nuts, or oly keoks : a delicious kind of cake, at present 
scarce known in this city, excepting in genuine Dutch 
families. 

The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, 
ornamented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds 
and shepherdesses, tending pigs — with boats sailing in 
the air, and houses built in the clouds, and sundry other 
ingenious Dutch fantasies. The beaux distinguished 
themselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot, 
from a hugh copper tea-kettle, which would have made 
the pigmy macaronies of these degenerate days sweat, 
merely to look at it. To sweeten the beverage, a lump 
of sugar was laid beside each cup — and the company, 
alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum, until an 
improvement was introduced by a shrewd and economic 
old lady, which was, to suspend a large lump directly over 
the tea table, by a string from the ceiling, so that it could 
be swung from mouth to mouth, — an ingenious expedient, 
which is still kept up by some families in Albany ; but 
which prevails without exception in Conununipaw, Ber- 
gen, Flat-Bush, and all our uncontaminated Dutch vil- 
lages. 

At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety' and 
dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquet- 
ting — no gambling of old ladies, nor hoyden chattering 
and romping of young ones — no self-satisfied struttings 
of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in their pockets ; 
nor amusing conceits, and monkey divertisements of 
smart young gentlemen with no brains at all. On the 
contrary, the young ladies seated themselves demurely in 
their rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their own woollen 
stockings; nor ever opened their lips, excepting to say 
yah Mynheer, or yah ya Vrouic, to any question that was 
asked them; behaving, in all things, like decent well 
educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them 
tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contem- 
plation of the blue and white tiles, with which the fire 
places were decorated ; wherein sundry passages of 
scripture were piously pourtrayed : Tobet and his dog 
figured to great advantage ; Haraan swung conspicuously 



44 BEAUTIES or 

on his gibbet ; and Jonah appeared most manfully bounc- 
ing out of the whale, like harlequin through a barrel of 
fire. 

The parties broke up without noise and without confu- 
sion. They were carried home by their own carriages, 
that is to say, by the vehicles nature had provided 
them, excepting such of the wealthy as could aflbrd to keep 
a wagon. The gentlemen gallantly attended their fair 
ones to their respective abodes, and took leave of them 
with a hearty smack at the door : which, as it was an 
established piece of etiquette, done in perfect simplicity 
and honesty of heart, occasioned no scandal at that time, 
nor should it at the present — if our great grandfathers 
approved of the custom, it would argue a great want of 
reverence in their descendants to say a word against it. 



COSMOGONY, 

Or Creation of the World; with a multitude oj^ excellent 
Theories, by which the Creation of a World is shown 
to be no such difficult Matter as common Folks would 
im,agine. 

Having thus briefly introduced my reader into the world, 
and given him some idea of its form and situation, he will 
naturally be curious to know from whence it came, and 
how it was created. And indeed the clearing up of these 
points is absolutely essential to my history, inasmuch as 
if this world had not been formed, it is more than proba- 
ble, that this renowned island, on which is situated the 
city of New- York, would never have had an existence. 
The regular course of my history, therefore, requires that 
I should proceed to notice the cosmogony or formation of 
this our globe. 

And now I give my readers fair warning, that I am 
about to plunge for a chapter or two, into as complete a 
labyrinth as ever historian was perplexed withal ; there- 
fore, I advise them to take fast hold of my sldrts, and keep 
close at my heels, venturing neither to the right hand nor 
to the left, lest they get bemired in a slough of unintelligi- 
ble learning, or have their brains knocked out by some of 
those hard Greek names which will be flying about in all 
directions. But should any of them be too indolent or 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 45 

chicTcen-liearted to accompany me in this perilous under- 
taking, they had better take a short cut round, and wait for 
me at the beginning of some smoother chapter. 

Of the creation of the worki we have a thousand con- 
tradictory accounts; and though a very satisfactory one 
is furnished by divine revelation, yet every philosopher 
feels himself in honour bound to furnish us with a better. 
As an impartial historian, I consider it my duty to notice 
their several theories by which mankind have been so 
exceedingly edified and instructed. 

Thus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages, that 
the earth and the whole system of the universe was the 
deity himself;* a doctrine most strenuously maintained 
by Zenophanes and the whole tribe of Eleatics, as also by 
Strato and the sect of peripatetic philosophers. Pytha- 
goras hkewise inculcated the famous numerical system of 
the monad, dyad, and tryad ; and by means of his sacred 
quaternary elucidated the formation of the world, the 
arcana of nature, and the principles both of music and 
morals.t Other sages adhered to the mathematical sys- 
tem of squares and triangles ; the cube, the pyramid, and 
the sphere ; the tetrahedron, the octahedron, the icosahe- 
dron, and the dodecahedron. $ While others advocated 
the great elementary theory, which refers the construction 
of our globe and all that it contains to the combinations 
of four material elements, air, earth, fire, and water; 
with the assistance of a fifth, an immaterial and vivifying 
principle. 

Nor must I omit to mention the great atomic system 
taught by old Moschus before the siege of Troy ; revived 
by Democritus of laughing memory ; improved by Epi- 
curus that king of good fellows ; and modernized by the 
fanciful Descartes. But I decline inquiring whether the 
atoms, of wliich the earth is said to be composed, are 
eternal or recent ; whether they are animate or inanimate ; 
whether, agreeably to the opinions of Atheists, they were 
fortuitously aggregated; or, as the Theists maintain, 
were arranged by a supreme intelligence.il Whether, in 



* Arietot. ap. Cic. lib. 1. cap. 3. 

t Aristot. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 5. Idem de Ccelo, 1. ni. c. 1. Rous- 
seau. M6m. sur. Musique Ancien. p. 39. Plutarch de Plac. Philos 
lib i. cap. 3. 

t Tim- Locr. ap. Plato t. iii. p. 90. 

I Arittot. Nat, Ascult. L iL cap. C Aristoph. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 



46 BEAUTIES OP 

fact, the earth be an insensate clod, or whether it be ani 
mated by a soul ;* which opinion was strenuously main- 
tained by a host of philosophers, at the head of whom 
stands the great Plato, that temperate sage, who threw 
the cold water of philosophy on the form of sexual inter- 
course, and inculcated the doctrine of Platonic love — an 
fxquisitely refined intercourse, but much better adapted 
to the ideal inhabitants of his imaginary island of Atlantis 
than to the sturdy race, composed of rebelUous flesh 
and blood, which populates the little matter of fact island 
we inhabit. 

Besides these systems, we have, moreover, the poetical 
theogony of old Hesiod, who generated the whole uni- 
verse in the regular mode of procreation, and the plausi- 
ble opinion of others, that the earth was hatched from the 
great egg of night, which floated in chaos, and was cracked 
by the horns of the celestial bull. To illustrate this last 
doctrine, Burnet, in his theory of the earth,+ has favoured 
us with an accurate drawing and description both of the 
form and texture of this mundane egg ; which is found 
to bear a near resemblance to that of a goose. Such of 
my readers as take a proper interest in the origin of this 
our planet will be pleased to learn, that the most profound 
sages of antiquity, among the Egyptians, Chaldeans, Per- 
sians, Greeks, and Latins, have alternately assisted at the 
hatching of this strange bird ; and that their cacklings 
have been caught and continued, in different tones and 
inflections, from philosopher to philosopher, unto the pre- 
sent day. 

But while briefly noticing long celebrated systems of 
ancient sages, let me not pass over, with neglect, those of 
other philosophers ; which, though less universal than re- 
nowned, have equal claims to attention, and equal chance 
for correctness. Thus it is recorded by the Brahmins, in 
the pages of their inspired Shastah, that the angel Bist- 
noo transformed himself into a great boar, plunged into 
the watery abyss, and brought up the earth on his tusks. 
Then issued from him a mighty tortoise, and a mighty 
snake ; and Bistnoo placed the snake erect upon the back 



3. Cic. deNat. Deor- lib. i, cap. 10. Justin Mart. Oral, ad Gent. 
p. 20. 

* Moshfiim in Cudvv. lib. i. cap. 4. Tim. de .Anim. Mund. ap. Pit 
lib. iii. Mem. de I'Acad. des Belles Letties, t. xxxii. p. 19 et al. 

tBook i. ch. 5. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 47 

of the tortoise, and he placed the earth upon the head of 
the snake.* 

The negro philosophers of Congo affirm, that the world 
was made by the hands of angels, excepting their own 
country, which the supreme being constructed himself, 
that it might be supremely excellent. And he took great 
pains with the inhabitants, and made them very black and 
beautiful ; and when he had finished the first man, he was 
well pleased with him, and smoothed him over the face, 
and hence his nose, and the nose of all his descendants, 
became flat. 

The Mohawk philosophers tell us, that a pregnant wo- 
man fell down from heaven, and that a tortoise took her 
upon its back, because every place was covered with 
water; and, that the woman, sitting upon the tortoise, 
paddled with her hands m the water, and raked up the 
earth, whence it finally happened that the earth became 
higher than the water.t 

But I forbear to quote a number more of these ancient 
and outlandish philosophers, whose deplorable ignorance, 
in despite of all their erudition, compelled them to write 
in languages, which but few of my readers can understand ; 
and I shall proceed briefly to notice a few more intelligible 
and fashionable theories of their modern successors. 

And first I shall mention the great Buflfon, who con- 
jectures that this globe was originally a globe of liquid 
fire, scintillated from the body of the sun, by the percus- 
sion of a comet, as a spark of generated by the collision of 
flint and steel. That at first it was surrounded by gross 
vapours, which cooling and condensing in process of time, 
constituted, according to their densities, earth, water, and 
air; which gradually arranged themselves, according to 
their respective gravities, round the burning or vitrified 
mass that formed their centre. 

Hutton, on the contrary, supposes that the waters at 
first were universally paramount ; and he terrifies himself 
with the idea that the earth must be eventually washed 
away by the force of rains, rivers, and mountain torrents, 
until it is confounded with the ocean, or, in other words, 
absolutely dissolves into itself — Sublime ideal far sur- 



• Holwell, Gent. Philosophy. 

t Johannes Megapolensis, jun. Account of Maquaas or Mohawk 



Indians. 1644. 



48 BEAUTIES OF 

passing that of the tender hearted damsel of antiquity^ 
who wept herself into a fountain ; or the good dame of i 
Narbonne in France, who, for a volubility of tongue un- 
usual in her sex, was doomed to peel five huudred thou- 
sand and thirty-nine ropes of onions, and actually ran out 
at her eyes before half the hideous task was accomplished. 
Whiston, the same ingenious philosopher who rivalled 
Ditton in his researches after the longitude, (for which the 
mischief-loving Swift discharged on their heads, a most 
savoury stanza,) has distinguished himself by a very ad- 
mirable theory respecting the earth. He conjectures that 
it was originally a chaotic comet, which, being selected for 
the abode of man, was removed from its eccentric orbit, 
and whirled round the sun in its present regular motion ; 
by which change of direction, order succeeded to confu- 
sion in the arrangement of its component parts. The 
philosopher adds, that the deluge Was produced by an un- 
courteous salute from the watery tail of another comet ; 
doubtless through sheer envy of its improved condition ; 
thus furnishing a melancholy proof that jealousy may 
prevail, even among the heavenly bodies, and discord in- 
terrupt that celestial harmony of the spheres, sc melodious- 
ly sung by the poets- 

But I pass over a variety of excellent theories, among 
which are those of Burnet, and Woodward, and White- 
hurst ; regretting extremely that my time wUl not suffer 
me to give them the notice they deserve — And shall con- 
clude with that of the renowned Dr. Darwin. Tliis 
learned Theban, who is as much distinguished for rhyme 
as reason, and for good natured credulity as serious re- 
search ; and who has recommended himself wonderfully 
to the good graces of the ladies, by letting them into all 
the gallantries, amours, debaucheries, and other topics of 
scandal of the court of Flora, has fallen upon a theory 
worthy of his combustible imagination. According to his 
opinion, the huge mass of choas took a sudden occasion 
to explode, like a barrel of gunpowder, and, in that act, 
exploded the sun — which, in its flight, by a similar con- 
vulsion exploded the earth — which in like guise exploded 
the moon — and thus, by a concatenation of explosions, the 
whole solar system was produced, and set most systemati- 
cally in motion.* 



*Darw. Bot. garden. Part I cant. i. 1. 105. 



I 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 49 

By the great variety of theories here alluded to, every 
one of which, if thoroughly examined, will be found sur- 
prisingly consistent in all its parts, my unlearned readers 
will perhaps be led to conclude, that the creation of a 
World is not so difficult a task as they at first imagined. 
I have shown at least a score of ingenious methods in 
which a world could be constructed ; and, I have no 
doubt, that had any of the philosophers above quoted the 
use of a good manageable comet, and the philosophical 
warehouse, chaos, at his command, he would engage to 
manufacture a planet, as good, or, if you would take his 
word for it, better than this we inhabit. 

And here I cannot help noticing the kindness of provi- 
dence, in creating comets f«^r the great relief of bewildered 
philosophers. By their assistance more sudden evolutions 
and transitions are effected in the system of nature, than 
are wrought in a pantomimic exhibition, by the wonder- 
working sword of harlequin. Should one of our modern 
sages, in his theoretical flights among the stars, ever find 
liimself lost in the clouds, and in danger of tumbling into 
the abyss of nonsense and absurdity, he has but to seize a 
comet by the beard, mount astride of its tail, and away 
he gallops in triumph, like an enchanter on his hippogriff, 
or a Connecticut witch on her broomstick, " to sweep the 
cobwebs out of the sky." 

It is an old and vulgar saying, about a "beggar on 
horseback," which I would not for the world have applied 
to these reverend philosophers : but I must confess, that 
some of them, when they are mounted on one of those 
fiery steeds, are as wild in their curvettings as was Phae- 
ton, of yore, when he aspired to manage the chariot of 
Phoebus. One drives his comet at full speed against the 
Bun, and knocks the world out of him with mighty 
concussion ; another, more moderate, makes his comet a 
kind of beast of burden, carrying the sun a regular supply 
of food and faggots; a third of more combustible dispo- 
sition, threatens to throw his comet, like a bombshell, into 
the world, and blow it up like a powder magazine ; while 
a fourth, with no great delicacy to this planet and its in- 
habitants, insinuates that some day or other his comet — 
my modest pen blushes while I write it — shall absolutely 
turn tail upon the world and deluge it with water! — • 
Surely, as I have already observed, comets were bounti- 
fully provided by providence for the benefit of philosophers 
to assist them in manufacturing theories. 

5 



50 BEAUTIES OF 

And now, having adduced several of the most prominent 
theories that occur to my recollection, I leave my judici- 
ous readers at full liberty to choose among them. They 
are all serious speculations of learned men — all differ es- 
sentially from each other — and all have the same title to 
belief. It has ever been the task of one race of philoso- 
phers to demoUsh the works of their predecessors, and 
elevate more splendid fantasies in their stead, which, in 
their turn, are demolished and replaced by the air-castles 
of a succeeding generation. Thus it would seem that 
knowledge and genius, of which we make such great pa- 
rade, consist but in detecting the errors and absurdities of 
those who have gone before, and devising new errors and 
absurdities, to be detected by those who are to come after 
us. Theories are the mighty soap-bubbles with which 
the grown-up children of science amuse themselves ; while 
the honest vulgar stand gazing in stupid admiration, and 
dignify these learned vagaries with the name of wisdom ! 
— Surely Socrates was right in his opinion, that philoso- 
phers are but a soberer sort of madmen, busying them- 
selves in things totally incomprehensible, or which, if 
they could be comprehended, would be found not worthy 
the trouble of discovery. 

For my own part, until the learned have come to an 
agreement among themselves, I shall content myself with 
the account handed down to us by Moses ; in which I do 
but follow the example of our ingenious neighbours of 
Connecticut ; who at their first settlement proclaimed, 
that the colony should be governed by the laws of God — 
until they had time to make bettor. 

One thing however appears certain — from the unani- 
mous authority of the before quoted philosophers, sup- 
ported by the evidence of our own senses, (which, though 
very apt to deceive us, may be cautiously admitted as ad- 
ditional testimony,) it appears, I say, and I make the as- . 
sertion deliberately, without fear of contradiction, that 
this globe really was created, and that it is composed of 
land and water. It further appears that it is curiously 
divided and parcelled out into continents and islands, 
among which I boldly declare the renowned island op 
NEW-YORK will be found by any one who seeks for it in 
its proper place. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 51 



DUTCH LEGISLATORS. 

And now the infant settlement having advanced in age 
and stature, it was thought hi^h time it should receive an 
honest Christian name, and it was accordingly called New- 
Amsterdam. It is true there were some advocates for the 
oricjinal Indian name, and manv of the best writers of the 
province did long continue to call it by the title of " The 
Manhattoes," but this was discountenanced by the autho- 
rities, as being heathenish and savage. Besides, it was 
considered an excellent and praiseworthy measure to 
name it after a great city of the old world ; as by that 
means it was induced to emulate the greatness and re- 
nown of its namesake — in the manner that little snivelling 
urchins are called after great statesmen, saints, and wor- 
thies, and renowned generals of yore, upon which they aU 
industriously copy their examples, and come to be very 
niighty men in their day and generation. 

The thriving state of the settlement and the rapid in- 
crease of houses gradually awakened the good Oloffe 
from a deep lethargy, into which he had fallen after the 
buildincr of the fort. He now becjan to think it was time 
some plan should be devised on which the increasing 
town should be built. Summoning, therefore, his coun- 
sellors and coadjutors together, they took pipe in mouth, 
and forthwith sunk into a very sound deliberation on the 
subject. 

At the very outset of the business an unexpected dif- 
ference of opinion arose, and I mention it with much sor- 
rowing, as being the first altercation on record in the 
councils of New- Amsterdam. It was a breaking forth of 
the grudge and heartburning that had existed between 
those two eminent burghers, Mynheers Tenbroeck and 
Hardenbroeck, ever since their unhappy altercation on 
the coast of Bellevue. The great Hardenbroeck had 
waxed very wealthy and powerful from his domains, 
which embraced the whole chain of Apulean mountains 
that stretch along the gulf of Kip's Bay, and form part of 
which his descendants have been expelled in latter ages 
by the powerful clans of the Joneses and the Schermer- 
hornes. 

An ingenious plan for the city was offered by Mynheer 
Tenbroeck, who proposed that it should be cut up and 
intersected by canals, after the manner of the most ad 



52 BEAUTIES OF 

mired cities in Holland. To this Mynheer Hardenbroeck 
was diametrically oppoised, suggesting in place thereof 
that they should run out docks and wharfs by means of 
piles, driven into the bottom of the river, on which the 
town should be built. "By these means," said he tri- 
umphantly, " shall we rescue a considerable space of ter- 
ritory from these immense rivers, and build a city that 
shall rival Amsterdam, Venice, or any amphibious city 
in Europe." To this proposition Tenbroeck (or Ten 
Breeches) replied, with a look of as much scorn as he 
could possibly assume. He cast the utmost censure 
upon the plan of his antagonist as being preposterous, 
and against the very order of things, as he would leave to 
every true Hollander. " For what," said he, "is a town 
without canals 1 — It is like a body without veins and arte- 
ries, and must perish for want of a free circulation of the 
vital fluid." Tough Breeches, on the contrary, retorted 
with a sarcasm upon his antagonist, who was somewhat of 
an arid, dry boned habit ; he remarked, that as to the cir- 
culation of the blood being necessary to existence, Myn- 
heer Ten Breeches was a livinor contradiction to his own 
assertion ; for every body knew there had not a drop of 
blood circulated through his wind-dried carcass for good 
ten years, and yet there was not a greater busybody in the 
whole colony. Personalities have seldom much eflfect in 
making converts in argument ; nor have I ever seen a man 
convinced of error by being convicted of deformity. At 
least, such was not the case at present. Ten Breeches 
was very acrimonious in reply, and Tough Breeches, who 
was a sturdy little man, and never gave up the last word, 
rejoined with increasing spirit — Ten Breeches had the ad- 
vantage of the greatest volubility, but Tough Breeches 
had that invaluable coat of mail in argument called obsti- 
nacy — Ten Breeches had, therefore, the most metal, but 
Tough Breeches the best bottom — so that though Ten 
Breeches made a dreadful clattering about his ears, and 
battered and belaboured him with hard words and sound 
arguments ; yet Tough Breeches hung on most resolutely 
to the last. They parted, therefore, as is usual in all 
arguments where both parties are in the right, without 
coming to any conclusion ; but they hated each other 
most heartily for ever after, and a similar breach with 
that between the houses of Capulet and Montague did 
ensue between the famiUes of Ten Breeches and Tough 
Breeches. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 53 

I would not fatigue my reader with these dull matters 
of fact, but that my duty as a faithful historian requires 
that I should be particular; and, in truth, as I am now 
treating of the critical period, when our city, like a young 
twig first appeared, the twists and turns, that have since 
contributed to give it the present picturesque irregularity 
for which it is celebrated, I cannot be too minute in detail- 
ing their first causes. 

After the unhappy altercation I have just mentioned, I 
do not find that any thing further was said on the subject 
worthy of being recorded. The council, consisting of the 
largest and oldest heads in the community, met regularly 
once a- week, to ponder on this monstrous subject; but 
either they were deterred by the war of words they had 
witnessed, or they were naturally averse to the exercise 
of the tongue, and the consequent exercise of the brain 
— certain it is, the most profound silence was maintained 
— the question, as usual, lay on the table — the members 
quietly smoked their pipes, making but few laws, without 
ever enforcing any, and in the mean time the aflTairs of 
the settlement went on — as it pleased God. 

As most of the council were but little skilled in the 
mystery of combining pothooks and hangers, they deter- 
mined, most j udiciously, not to puzzle either themselves 
or posterity with voluminous records. The secretary 
however, kept the minutes of the council with tolerable 
precision, in a large vellum folio, fastened with massy 
brass clasps; the journal of each meeting consisted but of 
two lines, stating in Dutch, that "the council sat this 
day, and smoked twelve pipes on the affairs of the co- 
lony." By which it appears that the first settlers did not 
regulate their time by hours, but pipes, in the same man- 
ner as they measure distances in Holland at this very time; 
an admirably exact measurement, as the pipe in the mouth 
of a true born Dutchman is never liable to those accidents 
and irregularities that are continually putting our clocks 
out of order. 

In tliis manner did the profound council of New-Am- 
sterdam smoke, and doze, and ponder, from week to 
week, month to month, and year to year, in what man- 
ner they should construct their infant settlement : mean- 
while, the town took care of jtself, and like a sturdy brat 
which is suffered to run about wild, unshackled by clouts 
and bandages, and other abominations, by which your 
notable nurses and safe old women cripple and disfigure 

5* 



54 BEAUTIES OF 

the children of men, increased so rapidly in strength and 
magnitude, that before the honest burgomasters had de- 
termined upon a plan, it was too late to put it in execu- 
tion — whereupon they wisely abandoned the subject alto- 
gether. 



THE LITTLE MAN IN BLACK. 

The following story has been handed down by a family 
tradition for more than a century. It is one on which 
my cousin Christopher dwells with more than usual pro- 
lixity ; and, being in some measure connected with a per- 
sonage often quoted in our work, I have thought it worthy 
of being laid before my readers. 

Soon after my grandfather, Mr. Lemuel Cockloft, had 
quietly seated himself at the Hall, and just about the 
time that the gossips of the neighbourhood, tired of pry- 
ing into his affairs, were anxious for some new tea-table 
topic, the busy community of our little village was thrown 
into a grand turmoil of curiosity and conjecture — a situ- 
ation very common to little gossiping villages — by the 
sudden and unaccountable appearance of a mysterious 
individual. 

The object of this solicitude was a little black-looking 
man, of a foreign aspect, who took possession of an old 
building, which having long had the reputation of being 
haunted, was in a state of ruinous desolation, and an ob- 
ject of fear to all true believers in Ghosts. He usually 
wore a high sugar-loaf hat with a narrow brim, and a 
little black cloak, which, short as he was, scarcely reached 
below his knees. He sought no intimacy or acquaintance 
with any one — appeared to take no interest in the pleasures 
or the Uttle broils of the village — nor ever talked, except 
sometimes to himself in an outlandish tongue. He com- 
monly carried a large book, covered with sheepskin, under 
his arm, appeared always to be lost in meditation — and was 
often met by the peasantry, sometimes watching the dawn- 
ing of the day, sometimes at noon seated under a tree 
poring over his volume, and sometimes at evening gazing, 
with a look of sober tranquilUty, at the sun as it gradually 
sunk below the horizon. 

The good people of the vicinity beheld something pro- 
digiously singular in all this ; a profound mystery seem- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 55 

ed. to hang about the stranger, which, with all their saga- 
city, they could not penetrate ; and in the excess of world- 
ly charity they pronounced it a sure sign " that he was 
no better than he should be ;" a phrase innocent enough 
in itself; but which, as applied in common, signifies near- 
ly every thing that is bad. The young people thought 
him a gloomy misanthrope, because he never joined in 
their sports; the old men thought still more hardly of 
him, because he followed no trade, nor ever seemed am- 
bitious of earning a farthing ; and as to the old gossips, 
baffled by the inflexible taciturnity of the stranger, they 
unanimously declared that a man who could not or would 
not talk was no better than a dumb beast. The little 
man in black, careless of their opinions, seemed resolved 
to maintain the liberty of keeping his own secret ; and the 
consequence was, that, in a little while, the whole village 
was in an uproar; for in little communities of this descrip- 
tion, the members have always the privilege of being tho- 
roughly versed, and even of meddling in all the afiairs of 
€ach other. 

A confidential conferrence was held one Sunday morn- 
ing after sermon, at the door of the village church, and 
the character of the unknown fully investigated. The 
schoolmaster gave as his opinion that he was the wander- 
ing Jew ; the sexton was certain that he must be a free- 
mason from his silence ; a third maintained, with great 
obstinacy, that he was a High German Doctor, and that 
the book which he carried about with him contained the 
secrets of the black art ; but the most prevailing opinion 
seemed to be that he was a witch — a race of beings at that 
time abounding in those parts : and a sagacious old matron, 
from Connecticut, proposed to ascertain the fact by sousing 
him into a kettle of hot water. 

Suspicion, when once afloat, goes with wind and tide, 
and soon becomes certainty. Many a stormy night was 
the little man in black seen by the flashes of lightning, 
frisking and curvetting in the air upon a broomstick ; and 
it was always observed, that at those times the storm did 
more mischief than at any other. The old lady in parti- 
cular, who suggested the humane ordeal of the boiling 
kettle, lost, on one of these occasions, a fine brindle cow ; 
which accident was entirely ascribed to the vengeance of 
the little man in black. If ever a mischievious hireling 
rode his master's favourite horse to a distant frolic, and 
the animal was observed to be lame and jaded in the 



56 BEAUTIES OF 

morning, — the little man in black was sure to be at the 
bottom of the aflair ; nor could a high wind howl througn 
the village at night, but the old women shrugged up their 
shoulders, and observed, "the little man in black was in 
his tantrums." In short, he became the bugbear of every 
house; and was as effectual in frightening little children 
into obedience and hysterics, as the redoubtable Raw- 
head-and-bloody-bones himself ; nor could a housewife of 
the village sleep in peace, except under the guardianship 
of a horse-shoe nailed to the door. 

The object of these direful suspicions remained for 
some time totally ignorant of the wonderful quandary he 
had occasioned ; but he was soon doomed to feel its ef- 
fects. An individual who is once so unfortunate as to 
incur the odium of a village, is in a great measure out- 
lawed and proscribed, and becomes a mark for injury and 
insult ; particularly if he has not the power or the dis- 
position to recriminate. — The httle venemous passions, 
which in the great world are dissipated and weakened by 
being widely diffused, act in the narrow limits of a coun- 
try town with collected vigour, and become rancorous in 
proportion as they are confined in their sphere of action. 
The little man in black experienced the truth of this; 
every mischievous urchin returning from school had full 
liberty to break his windows : and this was considered as 
a most daring exploit ; for in such awe did they stand of 
him, that the most adventurous schoolboy was never seen 
to approach his threshold, and at night would prefer going 
round by the cross-roads, where a traveller had been mur- 
dered by the Indians, rather than pass by the door of his 
forlorn habitation. 

The only living creature that seemed to have any care 
0T affection for this deserted being was an old turnspit, — 
the companion of this lonely mansion and his solitary 
wanderings ; — the sharer of his scanty meals, and, sorry 
am I to say it, — the sharer of Ms persecutions. The 
turnspit, like his master, was peaceable and inoffensive; 
never known to bark at a horse, to growl at a traveller, 
or to quarrel with the dogs of the neighbourhood. He 
followed close by his master s heels when he went out, 
and when he returned stretched himself in the sunbeams 
at the door ; demeaning himself in all things like a civil 
and well disposed turnspit. But notwithstanding his 
exemplary deportment, he fell likewise under the ill re- 
port of the village ; as being the familiar of the little man 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 57 

in black, and the evil spirit that presided at his incanta- 
tions. The old hovel was considered as the scene of their 
unhallow^ed rites, and its harmless tenants regarded with 
a detestation which their inoffensive conduct never merit- 
ed. Though pelted and jeered at by the brats of the vil- 
lage, and frequently abused by their parents, the little 
man in black never turned to rebuke them ; and his faith- 
ful dog, when wantonly assaulted, looked up wistfully in 
his master's face, and there learned a lesson of patience 
and forbearance. 

The movements of this inscrutable being had long been 
the subject of speculation at Cockloft-hall, for its inmates 
were full as much given to wondering as their descen- 
dants. The patience with which he bore his persecutions 
particularly surprised them — for patience is a virtue but 
little known in the Cockloft family. My grandmother, 
who, it appears, was rather superstitious, saw, in this 
humility, nothing but the gloomy sullenness of a wizard, 
who restrained himself for the present, in hopes of mid- 
night vengeance — ^the parson of the village, who was a 
man of some reading, pronounced it the stubborn insen- 
sibility of a stoic philosopher — my grandfather, who, 
worthy soul, seldom wandered abroad in search of con- 
clusions, took datum from his own excellent heart, and 
regarded it as the humble forgiveness of a Christian. But 
however different were their opinions as to the character 
of the stranger, they agreed in one particular, namely, in 
never mtruding upon his solitude; and my grandmother, 
who was at that time nursing my mother, never left the 
room without wisely putting the large family bible in the 
cradle — a sure talisman, in her opinion, against witchcraft 
and necromancy. 

One stormy windy night, when a bleak north-east 
wind moaned about the cottages, and howled around the 
village steeple, my grandfather was returning from club 
preceded by a servant with a lantern. Just as he arrived 
opposite the desolate abode of the little man in black, he 
was arrested by the piteous howling of a dog, which, 
heard in the pauses of a storm, was exquisitely mourn- 
ful ; and he fancied now and then that he caught the low 
and broken groans of some one in distress. B e stopped for 
some minutes, hesitating between the benevolence of his 
heart and a sensation of genuine delicacy, which, in spite 
of his eccentricity, he fully possessed, — and which forbade 



53 BEAUTIES OP 

him to pry into the concerns of his neighbours. Per- 
haps, too, this hesitation might have been strengthened 
by a little taint of superstition; or suriely, if the unknown 
had been addicted to witchcraft, this was a most propiti- 
ous night for his vagaries. At length the old gentle- 
man's philanthropy predominated; he approached the 
hovel, and pushing open the door, — for poverty has no 
occasion for locks and keys, — beheld, by the light of the 
lantern, a scene that smote his generous heart to the core. 

On a miserable bed, with pallid and emaciated visage 
and hollow eyes; in a room destitute of every conve- 
nience; without fire to warm or friend to console him, lay 
tliis helpless mortal, who had been so long the terror and 
wonder of the village. His dog was crouching on the 
scanty coverlet, and shivering with cold. My grand- 
father stepped softly and hesitatingly to the bedside, and ac- 
costed the forlorn sufferer in his usual accents of kindness. 
The little man in black, seemed recalled by the tones of 
compassion from the lethargy into which he had fallen; 
for, though his heart was almost frozen, there was yet 
one chord that answered to the call of the good old man 
who bent over him; — the tones of sjTiipathy, so novel to 
his ear, called back his wandering senses, and acted like a 
restorative to his solitary feelings. 

He raised his eyes, but they were vacant and haggard ; 
— ^he put forth his hand, but it was cold ; he essayed to 
speak, but the sound died away in his throat; — he point- 
ed to his mouth with an expression of dreadful meaning, 
and, sad to relate ! my grandfather understood that the 
harmless stranger, deserted by society, was perishing with 
hunger! — With the quick impulse of humanity he des- 
patched the servant to the hall for refreshment. A little 
warm nourishment renovated him for a short time, but not 
long : it was evident his pilgrimage was drawing to a close, 
and he was about entering that peaceful asylmn where 
" the wicked cease from troubling." 

His tale of misery was short, and quickly told; — in- 
firmities had stolen upon him, heightened by the rigours 
of the season; he had taken to his bed without strength to 
rise and ask for assistance; "and if I had," said he, in a 
tone of bitter despondency, " to whom should I have ap- 
phed? I have no friend that I know of in the world ! — 
the villagers avoid me as something loathsome and dange- 
rous; and here, in the midst of Christians, should I have 



WASHINGTON lEVING. 59 

perished without a fellow being to sooth the last moments 
of existence, and close my dying eyes, had not the howl- 
ings of my faithful dog excited your attention 

He seemed deeply sensible of the kindness of my grand- 
father ; and at one time as he looked up into his old be- 
nefactor's face, a solitary tear was observed to steal 
adown the parched furrows of his cheek. — Poor outcast ! 
— it was the last tear he shed ; but I warrant it was not 
the first by millions ! My grandfather watched by him 
all night. Towards morning he gradually declined ; and 
as the rising sun gleamed through the windows, he begged 
to be raised in his bed, that he might look at it for the 
last time. He contemplated it for a moment with a kind 
of religious enthusiasm, and his lips moved as if engaged 
in prayer. The strange conjecture concerning him rush- 
ed on my grandfather's mind. "He is an idolater!" 
thought he, " and is worshipping the sun!" He listened 
a moment, and blushed at his own uncharitable suspicion ; 
he was only engaged in the pious devotions of a Christian. 
His simple orison being finished, the little man in black 
withdrew his eyes from the east, and taking my grandfa- 
ther's hand in one of his, and making a motion with the 
other towards the sun — " I love to contemplate it," said 
he ; •' 'tis an emblem of the universal benevolence of a 
true Christian ; — and it is the most glorious work of him 
who is philanthropy itself!" My grandfather blushed 
still deeper at his ungenerous surmises ; he had pitied the 
stranger at first, but now he revered him: — he turned 
once more to regard him, but his countenance had under- 
gone a change ; the holy enthusiasm that had lighted up 
each feature had given place to an expression of mysteri- 
ous import : — a gleam of grandeur seemed to steal across 
his gothic visage, and he appeared full of some mighty 
secret which he hesitated to impart. He raised the tat- 
tered nightcap that had sunk almost over his eyes, and 
waving his withered hand with a slow and feeble expres- 
sion of dignity — " In me," said he, v;ith a laconic solem- 
nity, — " In me you behold the last descendant of the re- 
nowned Linkum Fidelius !" My grandfather gazed at 
him with reverence; for though he had never heard of 
the illustrious personage thus pompously announced, yet 
there was a certain black-letter dignity in the name that 
j)eculiarly struck his fancy and commanded his respect. 

"You have been kind to me," continued the little man 
la black, after a momentary pause, "and richly will I 



60 BEAUTIES OP 

requite your kindness by making you heir to my trea- 
sures ! In yonder large deal box are the volumes of my 
illustrious ancestor, of which I alone am the fortunate 
possessor. Inherit them — ponder over them, and be 
wise !" He grew faint wdth the exertion he had made, I 
and sunk back almost breathless on his pillow. His hand, 
which, inspired with the importance of his subject, he had 
raised to my grandfather's arm, slipped from its hold and 
fell over the side of the bed, and his faithful dog licked 
it ; as if anxious to sooth the last moment? of his master, 
and testify his gratitude to the hand that had so often che- 
rished him. The untaught caresses of the faithful animal 
were not lost upon his dying master ; he raised his lan- 
guid eyes, — turned them on the dog, then on my grand- 
father ; and having given this silent recommendation — 
closed them for ever. 

The remains of the little man in black, notwithstand- 
ing the objections of many pious people, were decently in- 
terred in the church-yard of the village ; and his spirit, 
harmless as the body it once animated, has never been 
known to molest a living being. My grandfather com- 
plied as far as possible wdth his last request ; he conveyed 
the volumes of Linkum Fidelius to his library ; — he pon- 
dered over them frequently; but whether he grew wiser, 
the family tradition doth not mention. This much is 
certain, that his kindness to the poor descendant of Fide- 
lius was amply rewarded by the approbation of his own. 
heart, and the devoted attachment of the old turnspit ; 
who, transferring his affection from his deceased master 
to his benefactor, became his constant attendant, and was 
father to a long tribe of runty curs that still flourish in the 
family. And thus was the Cockloft library enriched by 
the invaluable folios of the sage Linkum Fidelius. 



MY AUNT CHARITY. 

My aunt Charity departed this life in the fifty-ninth 
year of her age, though she never grew older after twen- 
ty-five. In her teens she was, according to her own 
account, a celebrated beauty, — though I never could meet 
with any body that remembered when she was hancJsome. 
On the contrary. Evergreen's father, who used to gal- 
lant her in his youth, says she was as knotty a little ^lece 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 61 

of humanity as he ever saw; and that, if she had been 
possessed of the least sensibility, she would, like poor old 
Acco, have most certainly run mad at her own figure and 
face the first time she contemplated herself in a looking- 
glass. In the good old times that saw my aunt in the 
hey-day of youth, a fine lady was a most formidable ani- 
mal, and required to be approached with the same awe and 
devotion that a Tartar feels in the presence of his grand 
Lama. If a gentleman offered to take her hand, except 
to help her into a carriage, or lead her into a drawing- 
room, such frowns ! such a rustling of brocade and taii- 
fetta ! Her very paste shoe buckles sparkled with indig- 
nation, and for a moment assumed the brilliancy of dia- 
monds! In those days the person of a belle was sacred — it 
was unprofaned by the sacriligious grasp of a stranger : — 
simple souls : — they had not the waltz among them yet ! 

My good aunt prided herself on keeping up this buckram 
delicacy ; and if she happened to be playing at the old 
fashioned game of forfeits, and was fined a kiss, it was 
always more trouble to get it than it was worth ; for she 
made a most gallant defence, and never surrendered un- 
til she saw her adversary inclined to give over his at- 
tack. Evergreen's father says he remembers once to 
have been on a sleighing party with her, and when they 
came toKissing-Bridge, it fell to his lot to levy contributions 
on Miss Charity Cockloft, who after squalling at a 
hideous rate, at length jumped out of the sleigh plump into 
a snow-bank, where she stuck fast like an icicle, until he 
came to her rescue. Tliis Latonian feat cost her a rheu- 
matism, which she never thoroughly recovered. 

It is rather singular that my aunt, though a great 
beauty, and an heiress withal, never got married. — The 
reason she alleged was, that slie never met -with a lover 
who resembled Sir Charles Grandison, the hero of her 
nightly dreams and waking fancy ; but I am privately of 
opinion that it was owing to her never having had an 
offer. This much is certain, that for many years previous 
to her decease she declined all attentions from the gen- 
tlemen, and contented herself with watching over the 
welfare of her fellow creatures. She was, indeed, observed 
to take a considerable lean towards methodism, was fre- 
quent in her attendance at love-feasts, read Whitfield and 
Wesley, and even went so far as once to travel the distance 
of five and twenty miles to be present at a camp-meeting. 
This gave great offence to my cousin Christopher, and 

6 



6^ BEAUTIES OP 

his good lady, who, as I have already mentioned, are ri- 
gidly orthodox ; — and had not my aunt Charity been of 
a most pacific disposition, her religious whim-wham 
would have occasioned many a family altercation. She 
was indeed, as the Cockloft family ever boasted — a lady 
of unbounded loving-kindness, which extended to man, 
woman, and child ; many of whom she almost killed 
with good nature. Was any acquaintance sick? — in 
vain did the wind whistle and the storm beat — my aunt 
would waddle through mud and mire, over the whole 
town, but what she would visit them. She w.ould 
sit by them for hours together with the most perse- 
vering patience ;. and tell a thousand melancholy stories 
of human misery, to keep up their spirits. The 
whole catalogue of yefb teas was at her fingers' ends, 
from formidable Wormwood down to gentle balm ; and 
she would descant by the hour on the healing qualities of 
hoar-hound, catnip, and penny-royal. Wo be to the pa- 
tient that came under the benevolent hand of my aunt 
Charity ; he Was sure, willy nilly, to be drenched with a 
deluge of decoctions; and full many a time has my cousin 
Cluistopher bcn-ne a twinge of pain in silence, through 
fear of being condemned to suffer the martyrdom of her 
materia-medica. My good aunt had, moreover, conside- 
rable skill in astronomy ; for she could tell when the sun 
rose and set every day in the year ; — and no woman in the 
whole world was able to pronounce, with more certainty, 
at what precise minute the moon changed. She held the 
story of the moon^s being made of green cheese as an 
abominable slander on her favourite planet ; and she had 
made several valuable discoveries in solar eclipses, by 
means of a bit of burnt glass, which entitled her at least 
to an honorary admission in the American Philosophical 
Society. "Hutching's Improved" was her favourite 
book; and I shrewdly suspect that it was from this valua- 
ble work she drew most of her sovereign remedies for 
colds, coughs, corns, and consumptions. 

But the truth must be told ; with all her good quali- 
ties, my aunt Charity was afflicted with one fault, ex- 
tremely rare among her gentle sex — it was curiosity. 
How she came by it, I am at a loss to i;nagine, but it 
played the very vengeance with her, and destroyed the 
comfort of her life. Having an invmcible desire to know 
every body's character, business, and mode of living, she 
Was for ever prying into the allairs of her neighbours ; 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 63 

and got a great deal of ill-will from people towards whom 
she had the kindest disposition possible. If any family 
on the opposite side of the street gave a dinner, my aunt 
would mount her spectacles, and sit at the window until 
the company were all housed, merely that she might know 
who they were. If she heard a story about any of her ac- 
quaintance, she would forthwith, set off full sail, and never 
rest, until, to use her usual expression, she had got " to the 
bottom of it ;" which meant nothing more than tellincr it 
to every one she knew. 

I remember one night my aunt Charity happened to 
hear a most precious story about one of her good friends, 
but unfortunately too late to give it immediate circulation. 
It made her absolutely miserable ; and she hardly slept a 
wink all night ; for fear her bosom friend, Mrs. Siplans, 
should get the start of her in the morning, and blow the 
whole affair. — You must know there was always a con- 
test between these two ladies, who should first give cur- 
rency to the good-natured things said about every body ; 
and this unfortunate rivalship at length proved fatal to 
their long and ardent friendship. My aunt got up full 
two hours that morning before her usual time ; put on her 
pompadour taffeta gown, and sallied forth to lament the 
misfortune of her dear friend. — Would you believe it ! — 
wherever she went, Mrs. Sipkins had anticipated her ; 
and instead of being listened to with uplifted hands and 
open-mouthed wonder, my unhappy aunt was obliged to 
sit down quietly and listeii to the whole affair, with nu- 
merous additions, alterations, and amendments ! Now 
this was too bad ; it would almost have provoked Patient 
Grizzle or a saint; it was too much for my aunt, who 
kept her bed three days afterwards, with a cold as she 
pretended ; but I have no doubt it was owing to this af- 
fair of Mrs. Sipkins, to whom she never would be recoU' 
ciled. 

But I pass over the rest of my aunt Charity's life che- 
quered with the various calamities and misfortunes and 
mortifications, incident to those worthy old gentlewomen 
who have the domestic cares of the v/hole community upon 
their minds ; and 1 hasten to relate the melancholy inci- 
dent that hurried her out of existence in the full bloom of 
antiquated virginity. 

In their frolicsome malice the fates had ordered that 
a French boarding-house, or Pension Francaise, as it was 
ealled, should be established directly opposite nay aunt'g 



64 BEAUTIES OF 

residence. Cruel event! unhappy aunt Charity! — it 
threw her into that alarming disorder denominated the 
fidgets : she did nothing but watch at the window day 
after day, but without becoming one whit the wiser at the 
end of a fortnight than she Avas at the beginning ; she 
thought that neighbour Pension had a monstrous large fa- 
mily, and somehow or other they were all men ! She 
could not imagine what business neighbour Pension fol- 
lowed to support so numerous a household ; and wondered 
why there was always such a scraping of fiddles in the 
parlour, and such a smell of onions from neighbour Pen- 
sion's kitchen: in short, neighbour Pension was continual- 
ly uppermost in her thoughts, and incessantly on the outer 
edge of her tongue. This was, I believe, the very first 
time she had ever failed " to get at the bottom of a thing ;" 
and the disappointment cost her many a sleepless night, I 
warrant you. I have little doubt, however, that my aunt 
would have ferretted neighbour Pension out, could she 
have spoken or understood French ; but in those times 
people in general could make themselves understood in 
plain English ; and it was always a standing rule in the 
Cockloft family, which exists to this day, that not one of 
the females should learn French. 

My aunt Charity had lived at her window, for some 
time in vain ; when one day she was keeping her usual 
look-out, and suffering all the pangs of unsatisfied curiosi- 
ty, she beheld a little meagre, weazel-faced Frenchman, 
of the most forlorn, diminutive, and pitiful proportions, 
arrive at neighbour Pension's door. He was dressed in 
white, with a little pinch-up cocked hat ; he seemed to 
shake in the v^dnd, and every blast that went over him 
whistled through his bones, and threatened instant anni- 
hilation. This embodied spirit of famine was followed 
by three carts, lumbered with crazy trunks, chests, band- 
boxes, bidets, medicine-chests, parrots, and monkeys; 
and at his heels ran a yelping pack of little black-nosed 
pug-dogs. This was the one thing wanting to fill up 
the measure of my aunt (charity's afflictions; she could 
not conceive, for the soul of her, who this mysterious 
little apparition could be that made so great a display ; — 
what he could possibly do with so much baggage, and 
particularly with his parrots and monkeys ; or how so 
small a carcass could have occasion for so many trunks of 
clothes. Honest soul ! she never had a peep into a French 
man's wardrobe — that depot of old coats, hats, and 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 65 

breeches, of the growth of every fashion he has followed 
in his life. 

From the time of this fatal arrival my poor aunt was in a 
quandary ; — all her inquiries were fruitless ; no one could 
expound the history of this mysterious stranger : she 
never held her head up afterwards — drooped daily, took to 
her bed in a fortnight, and in "one little month,'' I saw 
her quietly deposited in the family vault — being the se- 
venth Cocldoft that has died of a whim- wham ! 

Take warning, my fair countrywomen I and you, O ! ye 
excellent ladies, whether married or single, who pry into 
other people's affairs and neglect those of your own house- 
hold ; who are so busily employed in observing the faults 
of others that you have no time to correct your own ; re- 
member the fate of my dear aunt Charity and eschew the 
evil spirit of curiosity. 



WILL WIZARD. 

I WAS not a little surprised the other morning at a re- 
quest from Will Wizard, that J would accompany him 

that evening to Mrs. 's ball. The request was 

simple enough in itself, it was only singular as coming 
from Will ; — of all my acquaintance, Wizard is the least 
calculated and disposed for the society of ladies — not that 
he dislikes their company; on the contrary, like, every 
man of pith and marrow, he is a professed admirer of 
the sex; and had he been born a poet, would un- 
doubtedly have bespattered and be-rhymed some hard 
named goddess ; until she became as famous as Petrarch's 
Laura, or Waller's Sachrissa; but Will is such a con- 
founded bungler at a bow, has so many odd bachelor 
habits, and finds it so troublesome to be gallant, that he 
generally prefers smoking his cigar and telling his story 
among cronies of his own gender: — and thundering long 
stories they are, let me tell you: set Will once a-going 
about China or Crun Tartary, or the Hottentots, and 
heaven help the poor victim who has to endure his pro- 
lixity ; he might better be tied to the tail of a jack- o'lan- 
thern. In one word, Will talks like a traveller. Being 
well acquainted with his character, I was the more 
ilarmed at his inclination to visit a party; since he haa 

6* 



66 BEAUTIES OF 

often assured me, that he considered it as equivalent 
to being stuck up for three hours in a steam-engine. I 
even wondered liow he had received an invitation ; — this 
he soon accounted for. It seems Will, on his last arrival 
from Canton, had made a present of a case of tea to a i 
lady, for whom he had once entertained a sneaking kind- 
ness when at grammar-school; and she in return had 
invited him to come and drink some of it: a cheap way 
enough of paying off little obhgations. I readily acce- 
ded o Will's proposition, expecting much entertainment 
from his eccentric remarks; and as he has been absent 
some few years, I anticipated his surprise at the splendour 
and elegance of a modern rout. 

On calling for Will in the evening, I found him full 
dressed, waiting for me. I contemplated him with absolute 
dismay. As he still retained a spark of regard for the 
lady who once reigned in his affections, he had been at 
unusual pains in decorating his person, and broke upon 
my sight arrayed in the true style that prevailed among 
our beaux some years ago. His hair was turned up and 
tufted at the top, frizzled out at the ears, a profusion of 
powder puffed over the whole, and a long plaited club 
swung gracefully from shoulder to shoulder, describing 
a pleasing semi-circle of powder and pomatum. His 
claret-coloured coat was decorated with a profusion of 
gilt buttons, and reached to his calves. His white cas- 
simere small-clothes were so tight that he seemed to have 
grown up in them; and his ponderous legs, which are 
the thickest part of his body, were beautifully clothed in 
sky-blue silk stockings, once considered so becoming. 
But above all, he prided himself upon his waistcoat of 
China silk, which might almost have served a good house- 
wife for a short-gown ; and he boasted that the roses and 
tulips upon it were the work of Nang-Fou, daughter of 
the great Chin-Chin-Fou, who had fallen in love with the 
graces of his person, and sent it to him as a parting pre- 
sent ; he assured me she was a perfect beauty, wdth 
sweet obliquity of eyes, and a foot no longer than the 
thumb of an alderman ; — he then dilated most copiously 
on his silver sprigged dicky, which he assured me was 
quite the rage among the dashing young mandarins of 
Canton. 

I hold it an ill-natured office to put any man out of 
conceit with himself; so, though I would willingly have 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 67 

made a little alteration in my friend Wizard's pictu- 
resque costume, yet I politely complimented him on his 
rakish appearance. 

On entering the room I kept a good look out on Will, 
expecting to see him exhibit signs of surprise ; but he is 
one of those knowing fellows who are never surprised at 
any thing, or at least will never acknowledge it. He 
took his stand in the middle of the floor, playing with 
his great steel watch-chain ; and looking round on the 
company, the furniture, and the pictures, with the air of 

a man "who had seen d d finer things in his time:" 

and to my utter confusion and dismay, I saw him coolly 
pull out his villainous old japanned tobacco-box, orna- 
mented with a bottle, a pipe, and a scurvy motto, and 
help himself to a quid in face of all the company. 

I knew it was all in vain to find fault with a fellow 
of Will's socratic turn, who is never to be put out of 
humour with himself; so, after he had given his box its 
prescriptive rap, and returned it to his pocket, I drew 
him into a corner where he might observe the company 
without being prominent objects ourselves. 

"And pray who is that stylish figure," said Will, 
"who blazes away in red, like a volcano, and who 
seems wrapped in flames hke a fiery dragon?" — That, 
cried I, is Miss Laurelia Dashaway : — she is the high- 
est flash of the ton — has much whim and more eccentrici- 
ty, and has reduced many an unhappy gentleman to 
stupidity by her charms ; you see she holds out the red 
flag in token of "no quarter." "Then keep me safe 
out of the sphere of her attractions," cried Will : " I 
would not e'en come in contact with her train, lest it 
should scorch me like the tail of a comet. — But who, I 
beg of you, is that amiable youth who is handing along 
a young lady, and at the same time contemplating liis 
sweet person in a mirror, as he passes 1" His name, 
said I, is Billy Dimple ; — he is a universal smiler, and 
would travel from Dan to Beersheba, and smile on every 
body as he passed. Dimple is a slave to the ladies — a 
hero at tea-parties, and is famous at the pirouet and the 
pigeon-wing ; a fiddle-stick is his idol, and a dance his 
.elysium. "A very pretty young gentleman, truly," 
cried Wizard; "he reminds me of a contemporary beau 
at Hayti. You must know that the magnanimous Des- 
salines gave a great ball to his court one fine sultry sum- 
mer's evening ; Dessy and I were great cronies ; — hand 



68 BEAUTIES OP 

and glove : — one of the most condescending great men I 
ever knew. — Such a display of black and yellow beauties! 
such a show of Madras handkerchiefs, red beads, cocks' 
tails, and peacocks' feathers ! — it was, as here, who should 
wear the highest top-knot, drag the longest tails, or ex- 
hibit the greatest variety of combs, colours, and gew- 
gaws. In the middle of the rout, when all was buzz, 
slip-slop, clack, and perfume, who should enter but Tucky 
Squash ! The yellow beauties blushed blue, and the 
black ones blushed as red as they could, with pleasure ; 
and there was a universal agitation of fans : every eye 
brightened and whitened to see Tucky ; for he was the 
pride of the court, the pink of courtesy, the mirror of 
fashion, the adoration of all the sable fair ones of Hayti. 
Such breadth of nose, such exulierance of lip ! liis shins 
had the true cucumber curve ; — his face in dancing shone 
like a kettle ; and provided you kept to windward of him 
in summer, I do not know a sweeter youth in all Hayti 
than Tucky Squash. When he laughed, there appeared 
from ear to ear a chevaux-de-frize of teeth, that rivalled 
the shark's in whiteness ; he could whistle like a north- 
wester ; play on a three-stringed fiddle like Apollo ; 
and, as to dancing, no Long-Island negro could shuffle 
you "double-trouble," or "hoe corn and dig potatoes," 
more scientifically : in short, he was a second Lothario. 
And the dusky nymphs of Hayti, one, and all, declared 
him a perpetual Adonis. Tucky walked about, whistling 
to himself, without regarding any body; and liis non- 
chalance was irresistible." 

I found Will had got neck and heels into one of his 
traveller's stories ; and there is no knowing how far he 
would have run his parallel between Billy Dimple and 
Tucky Squash, had not the music struck up from an 
adjoining apartment, and summoned the company to the 
dance. The sound seemed to have an inspiring effect on 
honest Will, and he procured the hand of an old acquain- 
tance for a country dance. It happened to be the fash- 
ionable one of " The devil among the Tailors," which is 
so vociferously demanded at every ball and assembly : and 
many a torn gown, and many an unfortunate toe, did rue 
the dancing of that night ; for Will thundered down the 
dauce like a coach and six, sometimes right and sometimes 
wrong ; now running over half a score of little Frenchmen, 
and now making sad inroads into ladies' cow«\'eb muslins 
And spangled tails. As every part of Will s body par- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 69 

took of the exertion, he shook from his capacious head 
such volumes of powder, that Hke pious Eneas on the first 
interview with Ctueen Dido, he might be said to have 
been enveloped in a cloud. Nor was Will's partner an 
insignificant figure in the scene ; she was a young lady 
of most voluminous proportions, that quivered at every 
skip ; and being braced up in the fashionable style with 
whalebone, stay-tape and buckram, looked like an apple 
pudding tied in the middle ; or, taking her flaming dress 
into consideration, like a bed and bolsters rolled up in a 
suit of red curtains. The dance finished. — I would 
gladly have taken Will off, but no; — he was now in one 
of his happy moods, and there was no doing any thing 
with him. He insisted on my introducing him to Miss 
Sparkle, a young lady unrivalled for playful wit and in- 
nocent vivacity, and who, like a brilliant, adds lustre to 
the front of fashion. I accordingly presented him to her, 
and began a conversation, in which, I thought, he might 
take a share ; but no such thing. Will took his stand be- 
fore her, straddling like a colossus, with his hands in his 
pockets, and an air of the most profound attention ; nor 
did he pretend to open his lips for some time, until, upon 
some lively sally of hers, he electrified the whole company 
with a most intolerable burst of laughter. What was to 
be done with such an incorrigible fellow] — To add to my 
distress, the first word he spoke was to tell Miss Sparkle 
that something she said reminded him of a circumstance 
that happened to him in China; — and at it he went, in 
the true traveller style, — described the Chinese mode of 
eating rice with chop-sticks ; — entered into a long eulo- 
gium on the succulent qualities of boiled birds' nests : and 
I made my escape at the very moment when he was on 
the point of squatting down on the floor, to show how the 
little Chinese Joshes sit cross-legged. 



STYLE. 

In no instance have I seen this grasping after style 
more whimsically exhibited than in the family of my old 
acquaintance Timothy Giblet. I recollect old Giblet 
when I was a boy, and he was the most surly curmudgeon 
I ever knew. He was a perfect scare-crow to the small- 
fry of the day, and inherited the hatred of all these un- 



70 BEAUTIES OF 

lucky little shavers ; for never could we assemble about 
his door of an evening to play, and make a little hubbub, 
out out he sallied from his nest like a spider, flourished 
his formidable horse-whip, and dispersed the whole crew 
in the twinkling of a lamp. I perfectly remember a bill 
he sent in to my father for a pane of sound glass I had 
accidentallv broken, which came well niffh (letting me a 
flogging ; and I remember, as perfectly, that the next night 
I revenged myself by breaking half-a-dozen. Giblet was 
as arrant a grub-worm as ever crawled ; and the only rules 
of right and wrong he cared a button foi', were the rules 
of multiplication and addition ; which he practised much 
more successfully than he did any of the rules of religion 
or morality. He used to declare they were the true gold- 
en rules; and he took special care to put Cocker's arith- 
metic in the hands of his cliildren, before they had 
read ten pages in the bible or the prayer bock. The prac- 
tice of these favourite maxims were at length crowned 
with the harvest of success; and after a life of incessant 
self-denial, and starvation, and after enduring all the 
pounds, shillings and pence miseries of a miser, he had the 
satisfaction of seeing himself worth a plum, and of dying 
jsst as he had determined to enjoy the remainder of his 
days in contemplating his great wealth and accumulating 
mortgacres. 

His children inherited Ms money; but they buried 
the disposition, and every other memorial of their father 
in his grave. Fired with a noble thirst for style, they 
instantly emerged from the retired lane in which them- 
selves and their accomplishments had hitherto been bu- 
ried ; and they blazed, and they whizzed, and they crack- 
ed about town, like a nest of squibs and devils in a fire- 
work. I can liken their sudden edai to nothing but that 
of the locust, which is hatclied in the dust, where it in- 
creases and swells up to maturity, and after feeling for 
a moment the vivifying rays of the sun, bursts forth a 
mighty insect, and flutters and rattles, and buzzes from 
every tree. The little warblers, who have long cheered 
the woodlands with their dulcet notes, are stunned by 
the discoruaut racket of these upstart intruders, and con- 
template, in contemptuous silence, their tinsel and their 
noise. 

Having once started, the* Giblets were determined that 
nothmg should stop them in their career, mitil they 
had run their full course and arrived at the very tip-top 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 71 

of style. Every tailor, every shoemaker, every coach* 
maker, every milliner, e^ery mantau-maker, every paper-* 
hanger, every piano-teacher, and every dancing-master in 
the city, were enlisted in their service ; and the willing 
wights most courteously answered their call, and fell to 
work to build up the fame of the Giblets^ as they had 
done that of many an aspiring family before them. In 
a little time the young ladies could dance the waltz, thun- 
der Lodoiska, murder French, kill time, and commit vio- 
lence on the face of nature in a landscape in water-co^ 
lours, equal to the best lady in the land, and the young 
gentlemen were seen lounging at corners of streets, and 
driving tandem ; heard talking loud at the theatre, and 
laughing in church, with as much ease and grace, and 
modesty, as if they had been gentlemen all the days of 
their lives. 

And the Giblets arrayed themselves in scarlet, ahd in 
fine linen, and seated themselves in high places ; but no 
body noticed them except to honour them with a little 
contempt. The Giblets made a prodigious splash in 
their own opinion ; but nobody extolled them except the 
tailors, and the milliners, who had been employed in ma- 
nufacturing their paraphernalia. The Giblets thereupon 
being, like Caleb Gluotem, determined to have " a place 
at the review," fell to work more fiercely than ever;— 
they gave dinners, and they gave balls ; they hired cooks 5 
they hired confectioners ; and they would have kept a 
newspaper in pay, had they not been all bought up at that 
time for the election. They in\ited the dancing men, 
and the dancing women, and the gormandizers, and the 
epicures of the city, to come and make merry at their 
expense ; and the dancing men, and the dancing women* 
and the epicures, and the gormandizers, did come; and 
they did make merry at their expense ; and they eat, and 
they drank, and they capered, and they danced, and they 
— laughed at their entertainers. 

Then commenced the hurry and the bustle, and the 
mighty nothingness of fashionable life ; — such rattUng in 
coaches ! such tlaunting in the streets ! such slamming of 
box-doors at the theatre ! such a tempest of bustle and un ■ 
meaning noise wherever they appeared ! The Giblets were 
seen here and there and every where ;- — they visited every 
body they knew, and every body they did not know; 
and there was no getting along for the Giblets. Their 
plan at length succeeded. By dint of dinners, of feeding 



72 BEAUTIES OP 

and frolicking the town, the Giblet family worked 
themselves into notice, and enjoyed the ineflable pleasure 
of being for ever pestered by visiters, who cared nothing g 
about them; of being squeezed, and smothered, and par- 
boiled at nightly balls, and evening tea-parties ; they 
were allowed the privilege of forgetting the very few old 
friends they once possessed ; — they turned their noses up 
in the wind at every thing that was not genteel ; and 
their superb manners and sublime affectation at length 
left it no longer a matter of doubt that the Giblets were 
perfectly in the style. 



FRENCHMEN. 

In my mind there's no position more positive and un- 
exceptionable than that most Frenchmen, dead or alive, 
are born dancers, I came pounce upon this discovery 
at the assembly, and I immediately noted it down in my 
register of indisputable facts — the public shall know all 
about it. As I never dance cotillions, holding them to 
be monstrous distorters of the human frame, and tanta- 
mount in their operations to being broken and dislocated 
on the wheel, I generally take occasion, while they are 
going on, to make ray remarks on the company. In the 
course of these observations I was struck with the ener- 
gy and eloquence of sundry limbs, which seemed to be 
flourishing about without appertaining to any body. 
After much investigation and difficulty, I, at length, 
traced them to their respective owners, whom I found 
to be all Frenchmen to a man. Art may have meddled 
somewhat in these affairs, but nature certainly did more. 
I have since been considerably employed in calculations 
on this subject; and by the most accurate computation 
I have determined, that a Frenchman passes at least 
three fifths of his time between the heavens and the 
earth, and partakes eminently of the nature of a gossam 
or soap bubble. One of these jack-a-lantern heroes, in 
taking a figure, which neither Euchd nor Pythagoras 
himself could demonstrate, unfortunately wound hunself — 
I mean his foot — his better part — into a lady's cobweb 
muslin robe; but perceiving it at the instant, he set 
himself a spinning the other way, lilie a top, unravelled 
his step, without omitting one angle or curve, and extri- 



WASHINGTON rRVING. 73 

cated himself without breaking a thread of the lady's 
dress ! he then sprung up like a sturgeon, crossed his 
feet four times, and finished this wonderful evolution by 
quivering his left leg, as a cat does her paw when she 
has accidentally dipped it in water. No man of 
"woman born," who was not a Frenchman, or a moun- 
tebank, could have done the like. 



THE WIFE. 

I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with 
which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of 
fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit 
of a man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth 
all the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity 
and elevation to their character, that at times it approaches 
to sublimity. Nothing can be more touching than to be- 
hold a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness 
and dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness 
while treading the prosperous paths of life, suddeidy ri- 
sing in mental force to be the comforter and supporter of 
her husband under misfortune, and abiding, with nu- 
shrinking firmness, the bitterest blasts of adversity. 

As the vine which has long twined its graceful foliage 
about the oak, and been Ufted by it in sunshine, will, 
when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling 
round it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shat- 
tered boughs ; so is it beautifully ordered by Providence, 
that woman, who is the mere dependant and ornament 
of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace 
when smitten with sudden calamity ; winding herself into 
the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the 
drooping head, and binding up the broken heart. 

I was once congratulating a friend, who had around 
him a blooming family, knit together in the strongest af- 
fection. "I can wish you no better lot," said he, with 
enthusiasm, " than to have a wife and children. — If you 
are prosperous, there they are to "share your prosperity; 
if otherwise, there they are to comfort you." And, in- 
deed, I have observed that a married man falling into 
misfortune is more apt to retrieve his situation in the 
world than a single one ; partly because he is more sti- 
mulated to exertion by the necessities of the helpless and 



74 BEAUTIES or 

beloved beings who depend upon him for subsistence ; but 
chiefly because his spirits are soothed and reUeved by do- 
mestic endearments, and his self respect kept alive by 
finding, that, though all abroad is darkness and humilia- 
tion, yet there is still a little world of love at home, of 
which he is the monarch. Whereas a single man is apt 
to run to waste and self neglect ; to fancy himself lonely 
and abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin like some 
deserted mansion, for want of an inhabitant. 

These observations call to mind a little domestic story, 
of which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, 
Leslie, had married a beautiful and accomplished girl, 
who had been brought up in the midst of fashionable life. 
She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was 
ample ; and he delighted in the anticipation of indulging 
her in every elegant pursuit, and administering to those 
dehcate tastes and fancies that spread a kind of witchery 
about the sex. — " Her life," said he, " shall be like a fairy 
tale." 

The very difference in their characters produced an 
harmonious combination : he was of a romantic and some- 
what serious cast ; she was all life and gladness. I have 
often noticed the mute rapture with which he would 
gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly powers 
made her the delight ; and how, in the midst of applause, 
her eye would still turn to him, as if there alone she 
sought favour and acceptance. When leaning on his 
arm, her slender form contrasted finely with his tall manly 
person. The fond confiding air with which she looked 
up to him seemed to call forth a flush of triumphant pride 
and cherishing tenderness, as if he doted on his lovely 
burthen for its very helplessness. Never did a couple set 
forward on the flowery path of early and well-suited mar- . 
riage with a fairer prospect of fehcity. 

It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have 
embarked his property in large speculations ; and he had 
not been married many months, when, by a succession 
of sudden disasters, it was swept from him, and he found 
himself reduced almost to penury. For a time he kept 
his situation to himself, and went about with a haggard 
countenance, and a breaking heart. His hfe was but a 
protracted agony ; and what rendered it more insupport- 
able was the keeping up a smile in the presence of his 
wille; for he could not bring himself to overwhelm her 
with the news. She saw, however, with the quick eyes 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 75 

of affection, that all was not well with him. She mark- 
evl his altered looks and stifled sighs, and was not to be 
deceived by his sickly and vapid attempts at cheerfulness. 
She tasked all her sprightly powers and tender blandish- 
ments to win him back to happiness ; but she only drove 
the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw cause 
to love her, the more torturing was the thought that he 
was soon to make her wretched. A little while, thought he, 
and the smile will vanish from that cheek — the song will 
die away from those lips — the lustre of those eyes will be 
quenched with sorrow; and the happy heart, which now 
beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed down Uke 
mine, by the cares and miseries of the world. 

At length he came to me one day, and related his whole 
situation in a tone of the deepest despair. When I heard 
him through, I inquired, " Does your wife know all thisi" 
— At the question he burst into an agony of tears. " For 
God's sake !" cried he, "if you have any pity on me, 
don't mention my wife ; it is the thought of her that 
drives me almost to madness!" 

"And why not?" said I. "She must know it sooner 
or later : you cannot keep it long from her, and the in- 
telUgence may break upon her in a more startling man- 
ner than if imparted by yourself; for the accents of those 
we love soften the harshest tidings. Besides you are 
depriving yourself of the comforts of her sympathy; 
and not merely that, but also endangering the only bond 
that can keep hearts together — an unreserved communi- 
ty of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that 
something is secretly preying upon your mind ; and true 
love will not brook reserve ; it feels undervalued and 
outrao-ed, when even the sorrows of those it loves are 
concealed from it." 

" Oh, but, my friend ! to think what a blow I am to 
give to all her future prospects — how I am to strike her 
very soul to the earth, by telling her that her husband is 
a becTCTar I that she is to forego all the elegancies of life — 
all the pleasures of society — to shrink with me into indi- 
gence and obscurity ! To tell her that I have dragged 
her down from the sphere in which she might have con- 
tinued to move in constant brightness — the light of every 
eye — the admiration of every heart ! — how can she bear 
poverty 1 she has been brought up in all the refine- 
ment of opulence- How can she bear neglect? she has 



76 BEAUTIES OP 

been the idol of society. Oh, it will break her heart — 
it will break her heart ! — " 

I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its flow ; 
for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm 
had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I re- 
sumed the subject gently, and urged him to break his situ- 
ation at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully, 
but positively. 

"But how are you to keep it from her? It is neces- 
sary she should know it, that you may take the steps 
proper to the alteration of your circumstances. You 

must change your style of living nay," observing a 

pang to pass across his countenance, " don't let that afflict 
you. I am sure you have never placed your happiness in 
outward show — you have yet friends, warm friends, who 
will not think the worse of you for being less splendidly 
lodged ; and surely it does not require a palace to be happy 
with Mary—" 

"I could be happy with her," cried he, convulsively, 
"in a hovel ! — I could go down with her into poverty and 

the dust ! — I could — I could God bless her! — God bless 

her !" cried he. bursting into a transport of grief and ten- 
derness. 

"And believe me, my friend," said I, stepping up, and 
grasping him warmly by the hand, "believe me she can 
be the same with you. Ay, more : it will be a source of 
pride and triumph to her — it will call forth all the la- 
tent energies and fervent sympathies of her nature ; for 
she wdll rejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself. 
There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly 
fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of pros- 
perity ; but wliich kindles up, and beams and blazes in 
the dark hour of adversity. No man knows what the 
wife of his bosom is — no man knows what a ministering 
angel she is — until he has gone with her through the 
fiery trials of this world." 

There was something in the earnestness of my manner, 
and the figurative style of my language, that caught the 
excited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had 
to deal with; and following up the impression I had 
made, I finished by persuading him to go home and un- 
burden his sad heart to his wife. 

I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt 
some little soUcitude for the result. Who can calculate 



WASHINGTON IRVING. , 77 

on the fortitude of one whose whole life has been a round 
of pleasures] Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark 
downward path of low humility suddenly pointed out 
before her, and might cling to the sunny regions in which 
they had hitherto revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable 
hfe is accompanied by so many galling mortifications, to 
which in other ranks it is a stranger. — In short, I could 
not meet Leslie the next morning without trepidation. 
He had made the disclosure. 

" And how did she bear it?" 

"Like an angel! It seemed rather to be a relief to 
her mind, for she threw her arms round my neck, and 
asked if this was all that had lately made me unhappy. — 
But, poor girl," added he, " she cannot realize the change 
we must undergo. She has no idea of poverty but in the 
abstract; she has only read of it in poetry, where it is 
allied to love. She feels as yet no privation ; she suffers 
no loss of accustomed conveniences nor elegancies. When 
we come practically to experience its sordid cares, its 
paltry wants, its petty humiliations — then will be the 
real trial" 

"But," said I, "now that you have got over the se- 
verest task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let 
the world into the secret the better. The disclosure may 
be mortifying ; but then it is a single misery, and soon 
over: whereas you otherwise suffer it, in anticipation, 
every hour in the day. It is not poverty so much as 
pretence, that harrasses a ruined man — the struggle be- 
tween a proud mind and an empty purse — the keeping 
up a hollow show that must soon come to an end. Have 
the courage to appear poor, and you disarm poverty of its 
sharpest sting," On this point I found Leslie perfectly 
prepared. He had no false pride himself, and as to his 
wife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered 
fortunes. 

Some days afterwards he called upon me in the even- 
ing. He had disposed of his dwelling-house, and taken 
a small cottage in the country, a few miles from town. 
He had been busied all day in sending out furniture. 
The new establishment required few articles, and those 
of the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his 
late residence had been sold, excepting his wife's harp. 
That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea of 
herself; it belonged to the little story of their loves : for 

tiame of the sweetest moments of their courtship were 

7* 



78 BEAUTIES OP 

those when he had leaned over that instrument, and lis- 
tened to the melting tones of her voice. I could not but 
smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in a doting 
husband. 

He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife 
had been all day superintending its arrangement. My 
feelings had become strongly interested in the progress of 
this family story, and, as it was a fine evening, 1 offered 
to accompany him. 

He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and as 
we walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing. 

" Poor Mary !" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, 
from his lips, 

"And what of her 7" asked I: "has any thing hap- 
pened to her 7" 

"What," said he, darting an impatient glance, "is it 
nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation — to be caged 
in a miserable cottage — to be obliged to toil almost in the 
menial concerns of her wretched habitation 7" 

" Has she then repined at the change 7" 

" Repined ! she has been nothing but sweetness and 
good humour. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than 
I have ever known her ; she has been to me ail love, and 
tenderness and comfort!" 

" Admirable girl !" exclaimed I. " You call yourself 
poor, my friend ; you never were so rich — ^you never knew 
the boundless treasure of excellence you possessed in that 
woman." 

" Oh I but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage 
were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this 
is her first day of real experience; she has been introdu- 
ced into a humble dwelling — she has been emplojed all 
day in arranging its miserable equipments — she has, for 
the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment 
— she has, for the first time, looked round her on a home 
destitute of every thing elegant, — almost of every thing 
convenient ; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and 
spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty." 

There was a degree of probability in this picture that 
I could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence." 

After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, 
so thickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a complete 
air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was 
humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral 
poet ; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 79 

had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few 
trees threw their branches gracefully over it ; and T ob- 
served several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the 
door, and on the grass-plat in front. A small wicket gate 
opened upon a footpath that wound through some shrub- 
bery to the door. Just as we approached, we heard the 
sound of music — Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and 
listened. It was Mary's voice, singing, in a style of the 
most touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband 
was peculiarly fond. 

I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped 
forward to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise 
on the gravel walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out 
at the window and vanished — a light footstep was heard 
— and Mary came tripping forth to meet us ; she was in 
a pretty rural dress of white ; a few wild flowers were 
twisted in her fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek; 
her whole countenance beamed with smiles — I had never 
seen her look so lovely. 

" My dear George," cried she, "I am so glad you are 
come ! I have been watching and watching for you ; and 
running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've 
set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage; 
and I've been gathering some of the most delicious straw- 
berries, for I know you are fond of them — and we have 
such excellent cream — and we have every thing so sweet 
and still here — Oh!" said she, putting her arm vsdthin his, 
and looking up brightly in his face, "Oh, we shall be so 
happy I" 

Poor Leslie was overcome — He caught her to his bosom 
— he folded his arms round her — he kissed her again and 
again — he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his 
eyes ; and he has often assured me that though the world 
has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, 
indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a 
moment of more exquisite felicity. 



TO ANTHONY EVERGREEN, Gent. 

Sir, 
As you appear to have taken to yourself the trouble of 
meddling in the concerns of the beau-monde, I take the 
liberty of appealing to you on a subject, which, though 



^ BEAUTIES OP 

considered merely as a very good joke, has occasioned me 
great vexation and expense. You must know I pride 
myself on being very useful to the ladies, that is, I take 
boxes for them at the theatre, go shopping with them, 
supply them with bouquets, and furnish them with novels 
from the circulating library. In consequence of these 
attentions I am become a great favourite, and there is 
seldom a party going on in the city without my having 
an iavitation. The grievance I have to mention is the 
exchange of hats which takes place on these occasions ; 
for, to speak my mind freely, there are certain young gen- 
tlemen who seem to consider fashionable parties as mere 
places to barter old clothes : and I am informed, that a 
number of them manage by this great system of exchange 
to keep their crowns decently covered without their hat- 
ters suffering in the least by it. 

It was but lately that I went to a private ball with a new 
hat, and on returning in the latter part of the evening, and 
asking for it, the scoundrel of a servant, with a broad grin, 
informed me that the new hats had been dealt out half an 
hour since, and they were then on the third quality ; and I 
was in the end obliged to borrow a young lady's beaver 
rather than go home with any of the ragged remnants that 
were left. 

Now I would wish to know if there is no possibility 
of having these offenders punished by law ; and whether 
it would not be advisable for ladies to mention in their 
cards of in\'itation, as a postscript, "Stealing hats and 
shawls positively prohibited." — At any rate, I would 
thank you, Mr. Evergreen, to discountenance the thing 
totally, by publishing in your paper, that stealing a hat is 
no joke. 

Your humble servant, 

Walter Withers. 



Showing the nature of History in general; containing fur- 
thermore the universal Acquirements of William the 
Testy, and how a Man may learn so much as to render 
himself good for nothing. 

When the lofty Thucydides is about to enter on his de- 
scription of the plague that desolated Athens, one of his 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 81 

modern commentators* assures the reader, that his his- 
tory "is now going to be exceeding solemn, serious, and 
pathetic;" and hints, with that air of chuclding gratula- 
tion, with which a gooci dame draws forth a choice mor- 
sel from a cupboard to regale a favourite, that this plague 
will give his history a most agreeable variety. 

In like manner did my heart leap within me, when I 
came to the dolorous dilemma of Fort Good Hope, which 
I at once perceived to be the forerunner of a series of 
great events and entertaining disasters. Such are the 
true subjects for the historic pen. For what is history in 
fact, but a kind of Newgate Calendar, a register of the 
crimes and miseries that man has inflicted on his fellow 
men. It is a huge libel on ha^nan nature, to which we in- 
dustriously add page after page, volume after volume, as 
if we were building up a monument to the honour rather 
then the infamy of our species. If we turn over the pages 
of these chronicles that man has written of himself, what 
are the characters dignified by the appellation of great, and 
held up to the admiration of posterity ? — Tyrants, robbers, 
conquerors, renowned only for the magnitude of their mis- 
deeds and the stupendous wrongs and miseries they have 
inflicted on mankind — warriors, who have hired them- 
selves to the trade of blood, not from motives of virtuous 
patriotism, or to protect the injured or defenceless, but 
merely to gain the vaunted glory of being adroit and suc- 
cessful in massacring their fellow beings ! What are the 
great events that constitute a glorious era ? The fall of em- 
pires — the desolation of happy countries — splendid cities 
smoking in their ruins — the proudest works of art tumbled 
in the dust — the skrieks and groans of whole nations as- 
cedding unto heaven ! 

It is thus the historians may be said to thrive on the 
miseries of mankind — they are like the birds of prey that 
hover over the field of battle, to fatten on the mighty dead. 
It was observed by a great projector of inland lock navi- 
gation, that rivers, lakes, and oceans were only formed to 
leed canals. In like manner I am tempted to believe, that 
plots, conspiracies, wars, victories, and massacres are or- 
dained by Providence only as food for the historian. 

It is a source of great delight to the philosopher in stu- 
dying the wonderful economy of nature, to trace the mu- 



Smith's Thucyd. vol. I. 



82 BEAUTIES OP 

tual dependencies of things, how they are created recipro- 
cally for each other, and how the most noxious and 
apparently unnecessary animal has its uses. Thus those 
swarms of flies, which are so often execrated as useless 
vermin, are created for the sustenance of spiders ; and 
spiders, on the other hand, are evidently made to devour 
flies. So those heroes who have been such pests in the 
world were bounteously provided as themes for the poet 
and the historian, while the poet and historian were des- 
tined to record the achievements of heroes ! i 

These and many similar reflections naturally arose in 
my mind as I took up my pen to commence the reign of 
William Kieft; for now the stream of our history, which 
hitherto has rolled in a tranquil current, is about to de- 
part for ever from its peaceful haunts, and brawl through 
many a turbulent and rugged scene. Like some sleek ox, 
which, having fed and fattened in a rich clover field, lies 
sunk in luxurious repose, and will bear repeated taunts 
and blows before it heaves its unwieldy limbs, and clum- 
sily arouses from its slumbers ; so the province of the 
Nieuw JNederlandts, having long thriven and grown cor- 
pulent under the prosperous reign of the Doubter, was 
reluctantly awakened to a melancholy conviction that, by 
patient suflerance, its grievances had become so numerous 
and aggravating, that it was preferrable to repel than en- 
dure them. The reader will now witness the manner in 
which a peaceful community advances toward a state of 
war; which it is too apt to approach, as a horse does a 
drum, with much prancing and parade, but with httle pro- 
gress, and too often with the wrong end foremost. 

WiLHELMUs Kieft, who, in 1634, ascended the Guber- 
natorial chair, (to borrow a favourite though clumsy ap- 
pellation of modern phraseologists,) was in form, feature, 
and character, the very reverse of Wouter Von Twiller, 
his renowned predecessor. He was of very respectable 
descent, his father being Inspector of Windmills in the 
ancient town of Saardam; and our hero, we are told, 
made very curious investigations in the nature and opera- 
tions of those machines when a boy, which is one reason 
why he afterwards came to be so ingenious a governor. 
His name, according to the most ingenious etymologists, 
was a corruption of Kyver, that is to say, a wrangler or 
scolder, and expressed the hereditary disposition of his 
fcmiily, which, for nearly two centuries, had kept the windy 
town of Saardam in hot water, and produced more tartars 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 83 

and brimstones, than any ten families in the place ; and so 
truly did Wilhelmus Kieft inherit this family endowment, 
that he had scarcely been a year in the discharge of his 
government, before he was universally known by the name 
of William the Testy. 

He was a brisk, waspish, little old gentleman, who had 
dried and withered away, partly through the natural pro- 
cess of years, and partly from being parched and burned 
up by his fiery soul, which blazed like a vehement rush- 
light in his bosom, constantly inciting him to most va- 
lorous broils, altercations, and misadventures. I have 
heard it observed by a profound and philosophical judge 
of human nature, that if a woman waxes fat as she grows 
old, the tenure of her life is very precarious ; but if hap- 
ly she withers, she lives for ever : such lilvewise was the 
case with William the Testy, who grew tougher in pro- 
portion as he dried. He was some such a Uttle Dutch- 
man as we may now and then see, stumping briskly about 
the streets of our city, in a broad skirted coat, with but- 
tons nearly as large as the shield of Ajax, an old-fashioned 
cocked hat stuck on the back of his head, and a cane as 
liigh as his chin. His visage was broad, but his features 
sharp; his nose turned up with a most petulent curl; his 
cheeks, like the regions of Terra del Fuego, were scorched 
into a dusky red — doubtless, in consequence of the neigh- 
bourhood of two fierce little gray eyes, through which 
his torrid soul beamed as fervently as a tropical sun bla- 
zing through a pair of burning glasses. The corners of 
his mouth were curiously modelled into a kind of fret- 
work, not a little resembling the wrinkled proboscis of an 
irritable pug dog ; in a word, he was one of the most posi 
tive, restless, ugly little men that ever put himself in a pas- 
sion about nothing. 

Such were the personal endowments of William the 
Testy; but it was the sterling riches of his mind that 
raised him to dignity and power. In his youth he had 
passed with great credit through a celebrated academy at 
the Hague, noted for producing finished scholars with a 
despatch unequalled, except by certain of our American 
colleges, which seem to manufacture bachelors of arts by 
some patent machine. Here he skirmished very smartly 
on the frontiers of several of the sciences, and made so gal- 
lant an inroad on the dead languages, as to bring off cap- 
tive a host of Greek nouns and Latin verbs, together with 
divers pithy saws and apophthegms ; all which he con 



84 BEAUTIES OP 

stantly paraded in conversation and writing, with as much ' 
vain glory as would a triumphant general of yore display 
the spoils of the countries he had ravished. He had more- 
over puzzled himself considerably with logic, in which he 
had advanced so far as to attain a very familiar acquain- 
tance, by name at least, with the whole family of syllogisms 
and dilemmas ; but what he chiefly valued himself on was 
his knowledge of metaphysics, in which having once upon 
a time ventured too deeply, he came well nigh being 
smothered in a slough of unintelligible learning — a fearful 
peril, from the effects of which he never perfectly reco- 
vered. In plain words, like many other profound inter- 
meddlers in this abstruse, bewildering science, he so con- 
fused his brain with abstract speculations which he could 
not comprehend, and artificial distinctions which he could 
not realize, that he could never think clearly on any sub- 
ject, however simple, through the whole course of his life 
afterwards. This, I must confess, was in some measure 
a misfortune, for he never engaged in argument, of which 
he was exceeding fond, but what, between logical deduc- 
tions and metaphysical jargon, he soon involved himself 
and his subject in a fog of contradictions and perplexities, 
and then would get into a mighty passion with his ad- 
versary, for not being con\'inced gratis. 

It is in knowledge as in swimming, — he who ostenta- 
tiously sports and flounders on the surface makes more 
noise and splashing, and attracts more attention than the 
industrious pearl diver, who plunges in search of treasures 
to the bottom. The "universal acquirements" of WU- 
Uam Kieft were the subject of great marvel and admira- 
tion among his countrymen; he figured about at the 
Hague with as much vain glory as does a profound Bonze 
at Fekin, who has mastered half the letters of the Chinese 
alphabet ; and, in a word, was unanimously pronounced 
a universal genius I — I have known many universal ge- 
niuses in my time, though to speak my mind freely, I never 
knew one, who, for the ordinary purposes of life, was 
worth his weight in straw ; but for the purposes of govern- 
ment, a little sound judgment, and plain common sense, 
is worth all the sparkling genius that ever wrote poetry, 
or invented theories. 

Strange as it may sound, therefore, the universal ac- 
quirements of the illustrious Wilhelmus were very much 
in his way ; and had he been less a learned man, it is 
possible he would have been a much greater governor. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 85 

He was exceedingly fond of trying philosophical and po- 
litical experiments: and having stuffed his head full of 
scraps and remnants of ancient republics, and oligarchies, 
and aristocracies, and monarchies, and the laws of Stolon, 
and Lycurgus, and Charondas, and the imaginary com- 
monwealth of Plato, and the Pandects of Justinian, and 
a thousand other fragments of venerable antiquity, he 
was for ever bent upon introducing some one or other of 
them into use ; so that between one contradictory measure 
and another, he entangled the government of the little 
province of Nieuw Nederlandts in more knots, during 
his administration, than half a dozen successors could have 
untied. 

No sooner had this bustling little man been blown by a 
whiff of fortune into the seat of government, than he called 
together his council, and delivered a very animated speech 
on the affairs of the province. As every body knows 
what a glorious opportunity a governor, a president, or 
even an emperor has of drubbing his enemies in his speech- 
es, messages, and bulletins, where he has the talk all on 
his own side, they may be sure the high-mettled WilUam 
Kieft did not suffer so favourable an occasion to escape 
him, of evincing that gallantry of tongue common to all 
able legislators. Before he commenced, it is recorded 
that he took out his pocket handkerchief, and gave a very 
sonorous blast of the nose, according to the usual custom 
of great orators. This, in general, I believe, is intended 
as a signal trumpet, to call the attention of the auditors; 
but with William the Testy it boasted a more classic 
cause, for he had read of the singular expedient of that fa- 
mous demagogue Caius Gracchus, who, when he haran- 
gued the Roman populace, modulated his tones by an 
oratorical flute or pitch-pipe. 

This preparatory symphony being performed, he com- 
menced by expressing an humble sense of his own want 
of talents, his utter unworthiness of the honour conferred 
upon him, and his humiliating incapacity to discharge 
the important duties of his new station ; in short, he ex- 
pressed so contemptible an opinion of himself, that many 
simple country members present, ignorant that these were 
mere words of course, always used on such occasions, 
were very uneasy, and even felt wrath that he should 
accept an office for which he was consciously so inade- 
quate. 

He then proceeded in a manner highly classic, pro- 

8 



86 BEAUTIES OP 

foundly erudite, and nothing at all to the purpose; being 
nothing more than a pompous account of all the govern- 
ments of ancient Greece, and the wars of Rome and 
Carthage, together with the rise and fall of sundry out- 
landish empires, about which the assembly knew no more 
than their great grandchildren who were yet unborn. 
Thus having, after the manner of your learned orators, 
convinced the audience that he was a man of many words 
and great erudition, he at length came to the less impor- 
tant part of his speech, the situation of the province ; and 
here he soon worked himself into a fearful rage against 
the Yankees, whom he compared to the Gauls who deso- 
lated Rome, and the Goths and Vandals who overran 
the fairest plains of Europe — nor did he forget to mention, 
in terms of adequate opprobrium, the insolence with 
which they had encroached upon the territories of New 
Netherlands, and the unparrelleld audacity with which 
they had commenced the town of New Plymouth, and 
planted the onion patches of Weathersfield under the very 
walls of Fort Goed Hoop. 

Ha\'ing thus artfully wrought up his tale of terror to 
a climax, he assumed a self-satisfied look, and declared, 
with a nod of knowing import, that he had taken mea- 
sures to put a final stop to these encroachments — that he 
had been obliged to have recourse to a dreadful engine of 
warfare, lately "invented, awful in its effects, but autho- 
rised by direful necessity. In a word, he was resolved to 
conquer the Yankees — by proclamation. 

For this purpose he had prepared a tremendous instru- 
ment of the kind, ordering, commanding, and enjoining 
the intruders aforesaid, forthwith to remove, depart, and 
withdraw from the districts, regions, and territories afore- 
said, under the pain of suflfering all the penalties, forfei- 
tures, and punishments, in such case made and provided, 
&c. This proclamation, he assured them, would at once 
exterminate the enemy from the face of the country ; and 
he pledged his valour as a governor, that within two 
months after it was published, not one stone should re- 
main on another in any of the towns which they had 
built. 

The council remained for some time silent after he had 
finished; whether struck dumb with admiration at the 
brilUancy of his project, or put to sleep by the length of 
his harangue, the history of the times doth not mention. 
Suffice it to say, they at length gave a general grunt of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 87 

acquiescence ; the proclamation was immediately despatch- 
ed with due cereinouy, having the great seal of the pro- 
vince, which was about the size of a buckwheat pancake, 
attached to it by a broad red riband. Governor Keift, 
having thus vented his indignation, felt greatly relieved 
—adjourned the council sine die — put on his cocked hat 
and corduroy small-clothes, and, mounting on a tall raw- 
boned charger, trotted out to his country seat, which was 
situated in a sweet, sequestered swamp, now called Dutch 
Street, but more commonly known by the name of Dog's 
Misery. 

Here, like the good Numa, he reposed from the toils 
of legislation, taking lessons in Governmment, not from the 
Nymph Ageria, but from the honoured wife of his bo- 
som ; who was one of that peculiar kind of females, sent 
upon earth a little before the flood, as a punishment for 
the sins of mankind, and commonly known by the apel- 
lation of knowing women. In fact, my duty as an historian 
obliges me to make known a circumstance which was a 
great secret at the time, and consequently was not a sub- 
ject of scandal at more than half the tea-tables of New- 
Amsterdam, but which, like many other great secrets, has 
leaked out in the lapse of years ; and this was, that the 
great Wilhelmus the Testy ; though one of the most po- 
tent Uttle men that ever breathed, yet submitted at home 
to a species of government, neither laid down in Aristotle 
nor Plato ; in short, it partook of the nature of a pure, un- 
mixed tyranny, and is familiarly denominated petticoat 
government. An absolute sway, which, though ex- 
ceedingly common in these modern days, was very rare 
among the ancients, if we may judge from the rout made 
about the domestic economy of honest Socrates, which 
is the only ancient case on record. 

The great Kieft, however, warded off all the sneers 
and sarcasms of his particular friends, who are ever 
ready to joke with a man on sore points of the kind, by 
alleging it was a government of his own election, to which 
he submitted through choice ; adding, at the same time, a 
profound maxim which he had found in an ancient au- 
thor, that "he who would aspire to govern^ should first 
learn to obey." 



(88) 



DIRK SCHUILER, 

AND 

THE VALIANT PETER 



This was one Dirk Schuiler (or Skulker,) a kind of 
hanger-on to the garrison, who seemed to belong to no- 
body, and in a manner to be self-outlawed. He was one 
of those vagabond cosmopohtes, who shark about the 
world as if they had no right or business in it ; and who 
infest the skirts of society, like poachers and interlopers. 
Every garrison and country village has one or more scape- 
goats of this kind, whose life is a kind of enigma, whose 
existence is without motive, who comes from the Lord 
knows where, who lives the Lord knows how, and seems 
to be made for no other earthly purpose but to keep up 
the ancient and honourable order of idleness. This va- 
gabond philosopher was supposed to have some Indian 
blood in his veins, which was manifested by a certain 
Indian complexion and cast of countenance ; but more 
especially by his propensities and habits. He was a tall, 
lank fellow, swift of foot, and long-winded. He was 
generally equipped in a half Indian dress, with bolt, 
leggings, and moccasons. His hair hung in strait gal- 
lows-locks about his ears, and added not a little to his 
sharking demeanour. It is an old remark, that persons 
of Indian mixture are half civilized, half savage, and 
half devil ; a third half being expressly provided for their 
particular convenience. It is for similar reasons, and 
probably with equal truth, that the back-wood men of 
Kentucky are styled half man, half horse, and half alli- 
gator by the settlers on the Mississippi, and held accord- 
ingly in great respect and abhorrence. 

The above character may have presented itself to the 
garrison as applicable to Dirk Schuiler whom they fami- 
Uarly dubbed Gallows Dirk. Certain it is, he acknow- 
ledged allegiance to no one — was an utter enemy to work, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 89 

holding it in no manner of estimation — but lounged about 
the fort, depending upon chance for a subsistence, getting 
arunk whenever he could get liquor, and stealing what- 
ever he could lay his hands on. Every day or two he 
was sure to get a sound rib-roasting for some of his mis- 
demeanours, which, however, as it broke no bones, he 
made very light of, and scrupled not to repeat the offence 
whenever another opportunity presented. Sometimes, in 
consequence of some flagrant villainy, he would abscond 
from the garrison, and be absent for a month at a time ; 
skulking about the woods and swamps, with a long fowl- 
ing-piece on his shoulder, laying in ambush for game, or 
squatting himself down on the edge of a pond catching 
fish for hours together, and bearing no littk resemblance 
to that notable bird ycleped the Mud-pole. When he 
thought his crimes had been forgotten or forgiven, he 
would sneak back to the fort wdth a bundle of skins, or a 
bunch of poultry, which perchance he had stolen, and 
would exhange them for liquor, with which, having well 
soaked his carcass, he would lay in the sun and enjoy all 
the luxurious indolence of that swinish philosopher Dio- 
genes. He was the terror of all the farm-yards in the 
country, into which he made fearful inroads ; and some- 
times he would make his sudden appearance at the garri- 
son at daybreak, with the whole neighbourhood at his 
heels, like a scoundrel thief of a fox, detected in his ma- 
raudings, and hunted to his hole. Such was this Dirk 
Schuiler ; and from the total indifference he showed to 
this world or its concerns, and from his truly Indian 
stoicism and taciturnity, no one would ever have dreamed 
that he would have been the publisher of the treachery of 
Risingh. 

When the carousal was going on, which proved so fatal 
to the brave Von Poffenburgh and his watchful garrison, 
Dirk skulked about from room to room, being a kind of 
privileged vagrant or useless hound, whom nobody no- 
ticed. But though a fellow of few words, yet, like your 
taciturn people, his eyes and ears were always open, and 
in the course of his prowlings he overheard, the whole plot 
of the Swedes. Dirk immediately settled in his own mind 
how he should turn the matter to his own advantage. 
He played the perfect jack-of-both-sides ; that is to say, 
he made a prize of every thing that came in his reach, 
robbed both parries, stuck the copper-bound cocked hat 
of the puissant Von Poffenburgh on his head, whipped a 

8 * 



90 BEAUTIES OF 

huge pair of Risingh's jackboots under his arm. and took to 
his heels just before the catastrophe and confusion at the 
garrison. 

Finding himself completely dislodged from his haunt 
in this quarter, he directed his flight towards his native 
place, New-Amsterdam, from whence he had formerly 
been obliged to abscond precipitately, in consequence of 
misfortune in business, that is to say, having been de- 
tected in the act of sheep-stealing. After wandering 
many days in the woods, toiling through swamps, ford- 
ing brooks, swimming various rivers, and encountering a 
world of hardships that would have killed any other being 
but an Indian, a back-wood man, or the devil ; he at length 
arrived, half-famished, and lank as a starved weasel at 
Communipaw, where he stole a canoe, and paddled over 
to New-Amsterdam. Immediately on landing, he re- 
paired to Governor Stuyvesant, and in more words than 
he had ever spoken before in the whole course of his life, 
gave an account of the disastrous affair. 

On receiving these direful tidings, the valiant Peter 
started from his seat, as did the stout King Arthur when 
at "merry Carleile," the news was brought him of the 
uncourteous misdeeds of the "grim barone" — without 
uttering a word, he dashed the pipe he was smoking 
against the back of the chimney, thrust a prodigious quid 
of negro-headed tobacco into his left cheek, pulled up his 
galligaskins, and strode up and down the room, humming, 
as was customary with him when in a passion, a hideous 
north-west ditty. But, as I have before shown, he was 
not a man to vent his spleen in idle vapouring; His first 
measure after the paroxysm of wrath had subsided, was 
to stump up stairs to a huge wooden chest, which served 
as his armoury, from whence he drew forth that identical 
suit of regimentals described in the preceding chapter. 
In these portentious habiliments he arrayed himself, like 
Achilles in the armour of Vulcan, and maintaining all the 
while a most appalling silence, knitting his brows, and 
drawing his breath through his clenched teeth. Being 
hastily equipped, he strode down into the parlour, jerked 
down his trusty sword from over the fire-place, where it 
was usually suspended ; but before he girded it on his 
thigh he drew it from its scabbard, and as his eye coursed 
along the rusty blade, a grim smile stole over his iron 
visage. It was the first smile that had visited his coun- 
tenance for five long weeks ; but every one who beheld 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 91 

it prophesied that there would soon be warm work in the 
province ! 

Thus armed at all pomts, with grisly war depicted in 
each feature, his very cocked hat assuming an air of un- 
common defiance, he instantly put himself on the alert, 
and despatched Anthony Van Corlear hither and thither, 
this way and that way, through all the muddy streets and 
crooked lanes of the city, summoning by sound of trumpet 
his trusty peers to assemble in instant council. This done, 
by way of expediting matters, according to the custom 
of people in a hurry, he kept in continual bustle, shifting 
from chair to chair, popping his head out of every win- 
dow, and stumping up and down stairs with his wooden 
leg in such brisk and incessant motion, that, as we are 
informed by an authentic historian of the times, the con- 
tinual clatter bore no small resemblance to the music of 
a cooper hooping a flour barrel. 



Description of the powerful Army that assembled at the 
City of NeiD-Amster dam — together with the interview 
between Peter the Headstrong and General Von Pof- 
fenhurgh ; and Peter^s Sentiments respecting unfortu- 
nate great Men. 

"While thus the enterprising Peter was coasting, with 
flowing sail, up the shores of the lordly Hudson, and arou- 
sing all the phlegmatic little Dutch settlements upon its 
borders, a great and puissant concourse of warriors was 
assembling at the city of New-Amsterdam. And here 
that invaluable fragment of antiquity, the Stuyvesant ma- 
nuscript, is more than commonly particular; by which 
means I am enabled to record the illustrious host that en- 
camped itself on the public square, in front of the fort, at 
present denominated the Bowling Green. 

In the centre then was pitched the tents of the men of 
battle of the Manhattoes ; who, being the inmates of the 
metropolis, composed the life-guards of the governor. 
These were commanded by the valiant Stoffel Brinker- 
hoof, who whilome had acquired such immortal fame at 
Oyster Bay — they displayed as a standard, a beaver ram- 
pant on a field of orange ; being the arms of the province, 



92 BEAUTIES OF 

and denoting the persevering industry, and the amphibi- 
ous origin of the Nederlanders.* 

On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that 
renowned Mynheer Michael Paw,t who lorded it over 
the fair regions of ancient Pavonia, and the lands away 
south, even unto the Navcsink mountains, t and was 
moreover patroon of Gibbet-Island. His standard was 
borne by his trusty squire, Cornelius Van Vorst ; consist- 
ing of a huge oyster recumbent upon a sea green field, 
being the armorial bearings of his favourite metropolis, 
Communipaw. He brought to the camp a stout force of 
warriors, heavily armed, being each clad in ten pair of 
linsey woolsey breeches, and overshadowed by broad 
brimmed beavers, with short pipes twisted in their hat- 
bands. These were the men who vegetated in the mud 
along the shores of Pavonia; being of the race of ge- 
nuine copperheads, and were fabled to have sprung from 
oysters. 

At a little distance was encamped the tribe of warriors 
who came from the neighbourhood of Hell-Gate, These 
were commanded by the Suy Dams, and the Van Dams, 
incontinent hard swearers as their names betoken — they 
were terrible looking fellows, clad in broad-skirted gaber- 
dines, of that curious coloured cloth called thunder and 
lightning ; and bore as a standard three devil's darning- 
needles, volant, in a flame coloured field. 

Hard by was the tent of the men of battle from the 
marshy borders of the Wael-bogtig,ll and the country 
thereabouts — these were of a sour aspect, by reason that 



* This was likewise the great seal of the New-Netherlands as 
may still be seun in ancient records. 

t Besides what is related in the Stuyvesant MS. I have found 
mention made of this illustrious patroon in another manuscript, 
which says: — " De Heer (or the Squire) Michael Paw, a Dutch 
subject, about 10th Aug. 1630, by deed purchased Staten Island. 
N K The same Michael Paw had what the Dutch call a colonie at 
Pa^'onia, on the Jersey shore, opposite New- York, and his over- 
seer, in 163G, was named Corns. Van Vorst — a person of the same 
name, in 1769, owned Pawles Hook, and a large farm at Pa- 
vonia, and is a lineal descendant from Van Vorst." 

J So called from the Navesink iribe of Indians, that inhabited 
tliese parts — at present they are erroneously denominated the 
Neversink, or Neversunk mountains. 

II i. e. The Winding Bay, named from the windings of its shores. 
This has since been corrupted by the vulgar into the Wallabuut, and 
is the basin which shelters o\ir infant navy. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 93 

they lived on crabs, which abound in these parts : they 
were the first institutors of that honourable order of 
knighthood, called Fly market shirks; and if tradition 
speak true, did likewise introduce the far famed step in 
dancing, called "double trouble." They were commanded 
by the fearless Jacobus Varra Vanger, and, had moreover, 
a jolly band of Breukelen* ferrymen, who performed a 
brave concerto on conchshells. 

But I refrain from pursuing this minute description 
which goes on to describe the warriors of Bloemen-dael, 
and Wee-hawk, and Hoboken, and sundry other places, 
well known in history and song — for now does the sound 
of martial music alarm the people of New- Amsterdam, 
sounding afar from beyond the walls of the city. But this 
alarm was in a little time relieved, for lo, from the midst 
of a vast cloud of dust, they recognized the brimstone co- 
loured breeches, and splendid silver leg of Peter Stuyve- 
sant glaring in the sunbeams ; and beheld him approach- 
ing at the head of a formidable army, which he had mus- 
tered along the banks of the Hudson. And here the 
excellent but anonymous writer of the Stuyvesant manu- 
script breaks out into a brave but glorious description of 
the forces, as they defiled through the principal gate of the 
city that stood by the head of Wall- street. 

First of all came the Van Bummels, who inhabit the 
pleasant borders of the Bronx. These were short fat men, 
wearing exceeding large trunk breeches, and are renown- 
ed for feats of the trencher : they were the first inventors 
of suppawn, or mush and milk. — (ylose in their rear 
marched the Van Vlotans, of Kaats Kill, most horrible 
quaffers of new cider, and arrant braggarts in their liquor. 
— After them came the Van Pelts, of Groodt Esopus, 
dexterous horsemen, mounted upon goodly switch-tailed 
steeds of the Esopus breed : these were mighty hunters 
of minks and musk rats, whence came the word Peltry. — 
Then the Van Nests of Kinderhoek, vahant robbers of 
birds' nests, as their name denotes : to these, if the report 
may be believed, are we indebted for the invention of slap- 
jacks, or buckwheat cakes. — Then the Van Higginbot- 
toms, of Wapping's Creek : these came armed with ferules 
and birchen rods, being a race of schoolmasters, who first 



•Now spelt Brooklyn. 



94 BEAUTIES OF 

discovered the marvellous sympathy between the seat o 
honour and the seat of intellect, and that the shortest wa\ 
to get knowledge into the head was to hammer it into tho 
bottom. — Then the Van Grolls of Anthony's Nose, who 
carried their liquor in fair round little pottles, by reason 
they could not bouse it out of their canteens, having such , 
rare long noses. — Then the Gardeniers, of Hudson and , 
thereabouts, distinguished by many triumphant feats, such 
as robbing watermelon patches, smoking rabbits out of 
their holes, and the like, and by being great lovers of 
roasted pig's tails: these were the ancestors of the re- 
nowned congressman of that name. — Then the Van 
Hoesen's of Sing-Song, great choristers and players upon , 
the Jew's-harp : these marched two and two, singing the 
great song of St. Nicholas. — Then the Couenhovens, of 
Sleepy Hollow : these gave birth to a jolly race of pub- , 
licans, who first discovered the magic art of conjuring a \ 
quart of wine into a pint bottle. — Then the Van Kort- 
landts, who lived on the wild banks of the Croton, and 
were great killers of wild ducks, being much spoken of 
for their skill in shooting with the long bow. — Then the 
Van Bunschotens, of Nyock and Kakiat, who were the 
first that did ever kick with the left foot ; they were gal- 
lant bush-whackers, and hunters of racoons, by moonhght. 
— Then the Van Winkles of Haerlem, potentsuckers of 
eggs, and noted for running of horses, and running up of 
scores at taverns : they were the first that ever winked 
with both eyes at ©nee. — Lastly, came the Knickerbock- 
ers, of the great town of Schahtikoke, where the folk 
lay stones upon the houses in windy weather, lest they 
should be blown away. These derive their name, as some 
say, from Kniker^ to shake, and Becker, a goblet, indicating 
thereby that they were sturdy tosspots of yore ; but, in 
truth, it was derived from Knicker, to nod, and BoekeUy 
books, plainly meaning that they were great nodders or 
dozers over books : from them did descend the writer of 
this history. 

Such was the legion of sturdy bush-beaters, that poured 
in at the grand gate of New- Amsterdam. The Stuy vesant 
manuscript, indeed, speaks of many more, whose names I 
omit to mention, seeing that it behoves me to hasten to 
matters of greater moment. Nothing could surpass the 
joy and martial pride of the lion-hearted Peter, as he 
r;eviewed tliis mighty host of warriors; and he deter- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 96 

mined no longer to defer the gratification of his much 
wished-for revenge, upon the scoundrel Swedes at Fort 
Casimir. 

But before I hasten to record those unmatchable events 
which will be found in the sequel of this faithful history, 
let me pause to notice the fate of Jacobus Von Polfen- 
burgh, the discomfitted commander-in-chief of the armies 
of the New-Netherlands. Such is the inherent unchari- 
tableness of human nature, that scarcely did the news 
become public, of his deplorable discomfitture at Fort 
Casimir than a thousand scurvy rumours were set afloat 
in New- Amsterdam ; wherein it was insinuated, that he 
had in reality a treacherous understanding with the Swe- 
dish commander ; that he had long been in the practice of 
privately communicating with the Swedes ; together with 
divers hints about " secret service money," — to all which 
deadly charges I do not give a jot more credit than I think 
they deserve. 

Certain it is, that the general vindicated his character 
by the most vehement oaths and protestations, and put 
every man out of the ranks of honour who dared to doubt 
his integrity. Moreover, on returning to New- Amster- 
dam, he paraded up and down the streets with a crew of 
hard swearers at his heels, — sturdy bottle companions, 
whom he gorged and fattened, and who were ready to 
bolster him through all the courts of justice, — heroes of 
his own kidney, fierce whiskered, broad shouldered, col- 
brand looking swaggerers, not one of whom but looked as 
though he could eat up an ox, and pick his teeth with the 
horns. These life-guard men quarrelled all his quarrels, 
were ready to fight all his battles, and scowled at every 
man that turned up his nose to the general, as though they 
would devour -him alive. Their conversation was inter- 
spersed with oaths like minute guns, and every bombastic 
rhodomontado was rounded off by a thundering execra- 
tion like a patriotic toast honoured with a discharge of 
artillery. 

All these valuorous vapourings had a considerable effect 
in convincing certain profound sages, many of whom be- 
gan to think the general a hero of unutterable loftiness 
and magnanimity of soul, particularly as he was conti- 
nually protesting en the honour of a soldier, — a marvel- 
lously high sounding asservation. Nay, one of the mem- 
bers of the council went so far as to propose they should im- 
mortalize him by an imperishable statue of plaster of Paris. 



Of Peter Stuyvesant's expedition into the East Country; 
showing thatf though an old Bird^he didnotunderstand 
Trap. 

Great nations resemble great men in this particular, 
that their greatness is seldom known until they get in 
trouble ; adversity, therefore, has been wisely denomi- 
nated the ordeal of true greatness, which, like gold, can 
never receive its real estimation until it has passed through 
the furnace. In proportion, therefore, as a nation, a com- 
munity, or an individual (possessing the inherent quality 
of greatness) is involved in perils and misfortunes, in pro- 
portion does it rise in grandeur — and even when sinking 
under calamnity, makes, like a house on fire, a more glo- 



96 BEAUTIES OP 

But the vigilant Peter the Headstrong was not thus to j 
be deceived. Sending privately for the commander-in- 
chief of all the armies, and having heard all his story, 
garnished with the customary pious oaths, protestations, 
and ejaculations — "Harkee, comrade," cried he, "though \ 
by your own account you are the most brave, upright, 
and honourable man in the whole province, yet do you lie 
under the misfortune of being damnably traduced and 
immeasurably despised. Now though it is certainly hard 
to punish a man for his misfortunes, and though it is very 
possible you are totally innocent of the crimes laid to your 
charge ; yet as heaven, at present, doubtless for some wise 
purpose, sees fit to withhold all proofs of your innocence, 
far be it from me to counteract its sovereign will. Be- 
side, I cannot consent to venture my armies with a com- 
mander whom they despise, or to trust the welfare of my 
people to a champion whom they distrust. Retire, 
therefore, my friend, from the irksome toils and cares 
of public life, with this comforting reflection — that if 
you be guilty, you are but enjoying your just reward — 
and if innocent, that you are not the first great and 
good man, who has most wrongfully been slandered and 
maltreated in this wicked world— doubtless to be bet- 
ter treated in a better world, where there shall neither 
be error, calumny, nor persecution. In the mean time 
let me never sec your face again, for I have a horrid 
antipathy to the countenances of unfortunate great men 
like yourself." 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 97 

rious display than ever it did, in the fairest period of its 
prosperity. 

The vast empire of China, though teeming with popu- 
lation, and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of na- 
tions, has vegetated through a succession of drowsy ages ; 
and were it not for its internal revolution, and the sub- 
version of its ancient government by the Tartars, might 
have presented nothing but an uninteresting detail of dull, 
monotonous prosperity. Pompeii and Herculaneum 
might have passed into oblivion, with a herd of their con- 
temporaries, had they not been fortunately overwhelmed 
by a volcano. The renowned city of Troy has acquired 
celebrity only from its ten years' distress and final con- 
flagration ; Paris rises in importance by the plots and 
massacres which have ended in the exaltation of the il- 
lustrious Napoleon ; and even the mighty London itself 
has skulked through the records of time, celebrated for 
nothing of moment, excepting the plague, the great fire, 
and Guy Faux's gunpowder plot ! Thus cities and em- 
pires seem to creep along, enlarging in silent obscurity 
under the pen of the historian, until at length they burst 
forth in some tremendous calamity, and snatch, as it 
were, immortality from the explosion ! 

The above principle being admitted, my reader will 
plainly perceive that the city of New-Amsterdam and its 
dependent province are on the high road to greatness. 
Dangers and hostilities threaten from every side, and it 
is really a matter of astonishmeiit to me, how so small a 
state has been able, in so short a time, to entangle itself ia 
so many difficulties. Ever since the province was first 
taken by the nose, at the Fort of Good Hope, in the tran- 
quil days of Wouter Van T wilier, has it been gradually 
increasing in historic importance ; and never could it have 
had a more appropriate chieftain to conduct it to the pin- 
nacle of grandeur than Peter Stuyvesant. 

In the fiery heart of this iron-headed old warrior sat en- 
throned all those five kinds of courage described by Aris- 
totle ; and had the philosopher mentioned five hundred 
more to the back of them, I verily believe, he would have 
been found master of them all. The only misfortune was, 
that he was deficient in the better part of valour called dis- 
cretion, a cold-blooded virtue which could not exist in the 
tropical climate of his mighty soul. Hence it was, he was 
continually hurrying into those unheard-of enterprises that 
gave an air of chivalric romance to all his history ; and 

9 



98 BEAUTIES OF 



1 



and hence it was, that he now conceived a project worthy 
of the hero of La Mancha himself. 

This was no other than to repair in person to the great j, 
council of the Amphyctions, bearing the sword in one 
hand, and the olive branch in the other; to require imme- 
diate reparation for the innumerable violations of that 
treaty, which, in an evil hour, he had formed ; to put a 
stop to those repeated maraudings on the eastern borders ; 
or else to throw the gauntlet, and appeal to arms for satis- 
faction. 

On declaring this resolution in liia privy council, the 
venerable members were seized with vast astonishment : 
for once in their hves they ventured to remonstrate, set- 
ting forth the rashness of exposing his sacred person in 
the midst of a strange and barbarous people, with sundry 
other weighty remonstrances — all which had about as 
much inliiience upon the determination of the headstrong 
Peter, as though you were to endeavour to turn a rusty 
weathercock with a broken-winded bellows. 

Summoning therefore, to his presence his trusty fol- 
lower, Anthony Van Corlear, he commanded him to hold 
himself in readiness to accompany him the following morn- 
ing on this his hazardous enterprise. Now Anthony, the 
trumpeter, was a little stricken in years, yet by dint of 
keeping up a good heart, and having never known care or 
sorrow (ha\ing never been married), he was still a hearty, 
jocimd, rubicond, gamesome wag, and of great capacity 
in the doublet. This last was ascribed to his living a 
jolly hfe on those domains at the Hook, which Peter 
Stuyvesant had granted to him for his gallantry at Fort 
Casimir. 

Be this as it may, there was nothing that more deUght- 
ed Anthony than tliis command of the great Peter ; for he 
could have followed the stout-hearted old governor to the 
world's end, with love and loyalty : and he moreover still 
remembered the frolicking, and dancing, and bundling, 
and other disports of the east country; and entertained 
dainty recollection of numerous kind and buxom lasses, 
whom he longed exceedingly again to encounter. 

Thus, then, did this mirror of hardihood set forth, with 
no other attendant but his trumpeter, upon one of the most 
perilous enterprises ever recorded in the annals of knight- 
errantry. For a single warrior to venture openly among 
a whole nation of foes ; but, above all, for a plain, down- 
light Dutchman to think of negotiating with the whole 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 99 

council of New-England — never was there known a more 
desperate undertaking ! Ever since I have entered upon 
the chronicles of this peerless, but hitherto uncelebrated 
chieftain, has he kept me in a state of incessant action 
and anxiety with the toils and dangers he is constantly 
encountering. Oh ! for a chapter of the tranquil reign of 
Wouter Van Twiller, that I might repose on it as on a 
feather bed ! 

Is it not enough, Peter Stuyvesant, that I have once al- 
ready rescued thee from the machinations of these terrible 
Amphyctions, by bringing the whole powers of witchcraft 
to thine aid? — is it not enough, that 1 have followed thee 
undaunted, like a guardian spirit, into the misdst of the 
horrid battle of Fort Christina? That I have been put 
incessantly to my trumps to keep thee safe and sound- 
now warding off with my single pen the shower of dastard 
blows that fell upon thy rear — now narrowly shielding 
thee from a deadly thrust, by a mere tobacco-box — now 
casing thy dauntless skull with adamant, when even thy 
stubborn ram-beaver failed to resist the sword of the stout 
Risingh — and now, not merely bringing thee off alive, but 
triumphant, from the clutches of the gigantic Swede, by 
the desperate means of a paltry stone pottle ? — Is not all 
this enough, but must thou still be plunging into new diffi- 
culties, and jeopardizing in headlong enterprises thyself, 
thy trumpeter, and thy historian ? 

And now the ruddy faced Aurora, like a buxom cham- 
bermaid, draws aside the sable curtains of the night, and 
out bounces from his bed the jolly red haired Phoebus, 
s>tartled at being caught so late in the embraces of Dame 
Thetis. With many a stable oath, he harnessed his bra- 
zen-footed steeds, and whips and lashes, and splashes up 
the firmament, like a loitering post-boy, half an hour be- 
hind his time. And now behold that imp of fame and 
prowess, the headstrong Peter, bestriding a raw-boned, 
switch-tailed charger, gallantly arrayed in full regimentals, 
and bracing on his thigh that truly brass-hilted sword, 
which had wrought such fearful deeds on the banks of 
the Delaware. 

Behold, hard after him, his doughty trumpeter, Van 
Corlear, mounted on a broken-wintlecl, wall-eyed, calico 
mare ; his stone pottle which had laid low the mighty 
Risingh, slung under his arm, and his trumpet displayed 
vauntingly in his right hand, decorated with a gorgeous 
banner, on which is emblazoned the great beaver of the 



100 BEAUTIES OF 

Manhattoes. See him proudly issuing out of the city 
gate, like an iron-clad hero of yore, with his faithful squire 
at his heels, the populace following them with their eyes, 
and shouting many a parting wish, and hearty cheering. 
Farewell) Hard-koppig Piet ! Farewell, honest An- 
thony ! — Pleasant be your wayfaring — prosperous your 
return ! The stoutest hero that ever drew a sword, and 
the worthiest trumpeter that ever trod shoe leather. 

Legends are lamentably silent about the events that 
befell our adventurers, in this their adventurous travel, 
excepting the Stuyvesant manuscript, which gives the 
substance of a pleasant little heroic poem, written on the 
occasion by Domini ^gidus Luyck,* who appears to 
have been the poet-laureate of New- Amsterdam. Tliis 
inestimable manuscript assures us, that it was a rare spec- 
tacle to behold the great Peter, and his loyal follower, hail- 
ing the morning sun, and rejoicing in the clear counte- 
nance of nature, as they pranced it through the pastoral 
scenes of Bloomen Dael;t which, in those days, was a 
wild flower, refreshed by many a pure streamlet, and enli- 
vened here and there by a delectable little Dutch cottage, 
sheltering under some sloping hill, and almost buried in 
embowering trees. 

Now did they enter upon the confines of Connecticut, 
where they encountered many grievous difficulties and pe- 
rils. At one place they were assailed by a troop of coun- 
try squires and militia colonels, who, mounted on goodly 
steeds, hung upon their rear for several miles, harassing 
them exceedingly with guesses and questions, more espe- 
cially the worthy Peter, whose silver chased leg excited 
not a little marvel. At another place, hard by the re- 
nowned town of Stamford, they were set upon by a great 
and mighty legion of church deacons, who imperiously 
demanded of them five shillings for travelling on Sunday, 
and threatened to carry them captive to a neighbouring 
church, whose steeple peered above the trees : but these 
the valiant Peter put to rout with little difficulty, in- 
somuch that they bestrode their canes and gallopped off in 
horrible confusion, leaving their cocked hats behind in the 



* This Luyck was, moreover, rector of the Latin school in Nieuw- 
Ncderlands, 1663. There are two pieces of ^gidius Luyck in D. 
Selyn's MSS. of poesies, upon hip marriage with Judith Isendourn. 
Old MS. 

t Now called Blooming Dale, about four miJeG from New- York. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 101 

hurry of their flight. But not so easily did he escape from 
the hands of a crafty man of Pyquag ; who, with undaunt- 
ed perseverance, and repeated onsets, fairly bargained 
him out of his goodly switched-tailed charger, leaving him 
m place thereof a villanous, spavined, foundered Narra- 
ganset pacer. 

But, maugre all these hardships, they pursued their 
journey cheerily along the courses of the soft flowing Con- 
necticut, whose gentle waves, says the song, roll through 
many a fertile vale and sunny plain; now reflecting the 
lofty spires of the bustling city, and now the rural beau- 
ties of the humble hamlet; now echoing with the busy 
hum of commerce, and now with the cheerful song of the 
peasant. 

At every town would Peter Stuyvesant, who was noted 
for warlike punctilio, order the sturdy Anthony to sound a 
courteous salutation; though the manuscript observes, that 
the inhabitants were thrown in great dismay when they 
heard of his approach. For the fame of his incomparable 
achievements on the Delaware, had spread throughout 
the east country, and they dreaded lest he had come to 
take vengeance on their manifold transgressions. 

But the good Peter rode through these towns with a 
smihng aspect ; waving his hand with inexpressible ma- 
jesty and condescension ; for he verily believed that the 
old clothes which these ingenious people had thrust into 
their broken-windows, and the festoons of dried apples 
and peaches which ornamented the front of their houses, 
were so many decorations in honour of his approach; 
as it was the custom in the days of chivalry to compliment 
renowned heroes, by sumptuous displays of tapestry and 
gorgeous furniture. The women crowded to the doors to 
gaze upon him as he passed, so much does prowess in arms 
delight the gentle sex. The little children too ran after 
him in troops, staring with wonder at his regimentals, his 
brimstone breeches, and silver garniture ot his woodden 
leg. Nor must I omit to mention the joy which many 
strapping wenches betrayed, at beholding the jovial Van 
Corlear, who had whilome delighted them so much with 
his trumpet, when he bore the great Peter's challenge to 
the Amphyctions. The kind-hearted Anthony alighted 
from his calico mare, and kissed them all with infinite 
loving kindness — and was right pleased to see a crew of 
little trumpetters crowding around him for his blessing ; 

9* 



102 BEAUTIES OP 

each of whom he patted on the head, bade him be a good 
boy, and gave him a penny to buy molasses candy. 

The Stuyvesant manuscript makes but Uttle further 
mention of the governor's adventures upon this expedition, ^ 
excepting that he was received with extravagant courtesy \ 
and respect by the great council of the Araphyctions, who 
almost talked him to death with complimentary and con- 
gratulatory harangues. I will not detain my readers by 
dwelling on his negotiations with the grand council. 
Suffice it to mention, it was like all other negotiations — a 
great deal was said, and very little done : one conversation 
led to another — one conferrence begat misunderstandings 
which it took a dozen conferrences to explain ; at the end 
of which the parties found themselves just where they 
were at first ; excepting that they had entangled themselves 
in a host of questions of etiquette, and conceived a cordial 
distrust of each other, that rendered their future negotia 
tions ten times more difficult than ever.* 

In the midst of all these perplexities, which bewildered 
the brain and incensed the ire of the sturdy Peter, who 
was, perhaps, of all men in the world, least fitted for diplo- 
matic wiles, he privately received the first intimation of 
the dark conspiracy which had been matured in the Ca- 
binet of England. To this was added the astounding 
intelligence that a hostile squadron had already sailed 
from England, destined to reduce the province of New- 
Netherlands, and that the grand council of Amphyctions 
had engaged to co-operate, by sending a great army to in- 
vade New- Amsterdam by land ! 

Unfortunate Peter! did I not enter with sad forebod- 
ings upon this ill-starred expedition? Did I not tremble 
when I saw thee with no other counsellor but thine own 
head — with no other armour but an honest tongue, a 
spotless conscience, and a rusty sword — with no other 
protector but St. Nicholas — and no other attendant but a 
trumpeter? Did I not tremble when I beheld thee thus 
sally forth to contend with all the knowing powers of 
New-England? 

Oh how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, when 
he found himself thus intrapped, like a hon in the hun- 



*For certain of the particulars of this ancient negotiation, see 
Haz. Col. t^tate Pap. It is singular that Smith is entirely silent with 
lespect to this memorable expedition of Peter Stuyvesant. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 103 

ter's toil ! Now did he determine to draw his trusty- 
sword, and manfully to fight his way through all the 
countries of the east. Now did he resolve to break in 
upon the council of the Amphyctions, and put every 
mother's son of them to death. At length, as his direful 
wrath subsided, he resorted to safer though less glorious 
expedients. 

Concealing from the council his knowledge of their 
machinations, he privately despatched a trusty messenger 
with missives to his counsellors at New- Amsterdam, ap- 
prising them of the impending danger, commanding them 
immediately to put the city in a posture of defence, while 
in the mean time he would endeavour to elude his enemies 
and come to their assistance. This done, he felt himself 
marvellously relieved, rose slowly, shook himself like a 
rhinoceros, and issued forth from his den, in much the 
same manner as Giant Despair is described to have issued 
from Doubting Castle, in the chivalric history of the 
Pilgrim's Progress. 

And how much does it grieve me that I must leave the 
gallant Peter in this iinminent jeopardy: but it behoves 
us to hurry back and see what is going on at New- Am- 
sterdam, for greatly do I fear that city is already in a tur- 
moil. Such was ever the fate of Peter Stuyvesant ; while 
doing one thing with heart and soul, he was too apt to 
leave every thing else at sixes and sevens. While, like a 
potentate of yore, he was absent attending to those things 
in person, which in modern days are trusted to generals 
and ambassadors, his little territory at home was sure to 
get in an uproar — all which was owing to that uncommon 
strength of intellect, which induced him to trust to nobody 
but himself, and which had acquired him the renowned 
appellation of Peter the Headstrong. 



How the People of New- Amsterdam were thrown into a 
great Panic by the News of a threatened Invasion : and 
the Manner in which they fortified themselves. 

There is no sight more truly interesting to a philoso- 
pher than to contemplate a community where every indi- 
vidual has a voice in public affairs, where every individual 
thinks himself the Atlas of the nation, and where every 
individual thinks it is duty to bestir himself for the good 



104 BEAUTIES OP 

of his country. — I say, there is nothing more interesting 
to a philosopher than to see such a community in a sud 
den bustle of war. Such a clamour of tongues, such a 
bawling of patriotism, such running hither and thither, 
every body in a hurry, every body up to the ears in trouble, 
every body in the way, and every body interrupting his 
industrious neighbour, who is busily employed in doing 
nothing! It is like witnessing a great fire, where every 
man is at work like a hero ; some dragging about empty 
engines ! others scampering with full buckets, and spilling 
the contents into the boots of their neighbour ; and others 
ringing the church bells at night, by way of putting out 
the fire. Little firemen, like sturdy little knights storm- 
ing a breach, clambering up and down scaling-ladders, 
and bawling through tin trumpets, by way of directing the 
attack. Here one busy fellow, in his great zeal to save 
the property of the unfortunate, catches up an anonymous 
chamber utensil, and gallants it oft' with an air of as much 
self-importance, as if he had rescued a pot of money; 
another throws looking glasses and china out of the v^dn- 
dow, to save them from the flames ; while those, who can 
do nothing else to assist the great calamity, run up and 
down the streets with open throats, keeping up an inces- 
sant cry of — Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! 

" When the news arrived at Sinope," says the grave 
and profound Lucian, though I own the story is rather 
trite, "that Philip was about to attack them, the inhabi- 
tants were thrown into violent alarm. Some ran to fur- 
bish up their arms; others rolled stones to build up the 
walls ; every body, in short, was employed, and every 
body was in the way of his neighbour. Diogenes alone 
was the only man who could find nothing to do ; where- 
upon, determining not to be idle when the welfare of his 
country was at stake, he tucked up his robe, and fell to 
rolling his tub with might and main, up and down the 
Gymnasium." In like manner did every mother's son, 
in the patriotic community of New- Amsterdam, on re- 
ceiving the missives of Peter Stuyvesant, busy himself 
most mightily in putting things into confusion, and assist- 
ing the general uproar. " Every man," saith the Stuy- 
vesant manuscript, " flew to arms!" By which is meant, 
that not one of our honest Dutch citizens would venture 
to church or to market, without an old fashioned spit of 
a sword dangling at his side, and a long Dutch fowling- 
piece on his shoulder ; nor would he go out of a night 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 105 

without a lantern ! nor turn a corner without first peep- 
ing cautiously round, lest he should come unawares upon 
a British army; and we are informed, that Stoffel Brin- 
kerhoff, who was considered by the old women almost as 
brave a man as the governor himself, actually had two 
one-pound swivels mounted in his entry, one pointing out 
at the front door and the other at the back. 

But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this 
awful occasion, and one which has since been found of 
wonderful efficacy, was to assemble popular meetings. 
These brawling convoqations, 1 have already shown, were 
extremely offensive to Peter Stuy vesant ; but as this was 
a moment of unusual agitation, and as the old governor 
was not present to repress them, they broke out with in- 
tolerable violence. Hither, therefore, the orators and po- 
hticians repaired, and there seemed to be a competition 
among them who should bawl the loudest, and exceed the 
others in hyperbolical bursts of patriotism, and in resolu- 
tions to uphold and defend the government. In these sao-e 
and all powerful meetings it was determined, nem. con. that 
they were the most enlightened, the most dignified, the 
most formidable, and the most ancient community upon 
the face of the earth. Finding that this resolution was so 
universally and readily carried, another was immediately 
proposed, — Whether it were not possible and politic to ex- 
terminate Great Britain ? Upon which sixty-nine mem- 
bers spoke most eloquently in the affirmative, and only 
one arose to suggest some doubts, who, as a punishment 
for his treasonable presumption, was immediately seized 
by the mob, and tarred and feathered ; which punishment 
being equivalent to the Tarpeian Rock, he Was after- 
wards considered as an outcast from society, and his 
opinion went for nothing. The question, therefore, being 
unanimously carried in the affirmative, it was recommend- 
ed to the grand council to pass it into a law, which was 
accordingly done ; by this measure the hearts of the peo- 
ple at large were wonderfully encouraged, and they waxed 
exceedingly choleric and valorous. Indeed, the first 
paroxysm of alarm having in some measure subsided, the 
old women having buried all the money they could lay 
their hands on, and their husbands daily getting fuddled 
with what was left — the comnmnity began even to stand on 
the offensive. • Songs were manufactured in low Dutch, 
and sunff about the streets, wherein the English were most 
wofuUy beaten, and shown no quarter ; and popular ad- 



106 BEAUTIES OF 

dresses were made, wherein it was proved to a certainty, 
that the fate of Old England depended upon the will of 
the New-Amsterdamniers. 

Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of 
Great Britain, a multitude of the wiser inhabitants assem- 
bled, and having purchased all the British manufactures 
they could find, they made thereof a huge bonfire ; and, 
in the patriotic glow of the moment, every man present, 
who had a hat or breeches of English workmanship, pull- 
ed it off, and threw it most undauntedly into the flames 
— to the irreparable detriment, loss, and ruin of the Eng- 
lish manufacturers. In commemoration of this great 
exploit, they erected a pole on the spot, with a device 
on the top intended to represent the province of Nieuw 
Nederlandts, destroying Great Britain, under the simili- 
tude of an Eagle picking the little Island of Old England 
out of the globe ; but either through the unskillfulness of 
the sculptor, or his ill timed waggery, it bore a striking 
resemblance to a goose vainly striving to get hold of a 
dumpUng. 



In which the Troubles of New- Amsterdam appear to thick- 
en — Showing the bravery, in Time of Peril, of a Pco- 
•pie who defend themselves hy Resolutions. 

LiKL as an assemblage of politic cats, engaged in clamo- 
rous gibberings and catterwaulings, eyeing one another 
with hideous grimaces, spitting in each other's faces, and 
on the point of breaking forth into a general clapper- 
clawing, are suddenly put to scampering, rout, and con- 
fusion, by the startling appearance of a house-dog — so 
was the no less vociferous council of New-Amsterdam 
amazed, astounded, and totally dispersed, by the sudden 
arrival of the enemy. Every member made the best of 
his way home, waddling along as fast as his short legs 
could fag under their heavy burthen, and wheezing as he 
went with corpulency and terror. When he arrived at 
his castle, he barricadoed the street door, and buried him- 
self in the cider cellar, without daring to peep out, lest 
he should have his head carried olf by a cannon ball. 

The sovereign people all crowded into. the market- 
place, herding together with the instinct of sheep, who 
seek for safety in each other's company, when the shepherd 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 107 

and his dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round 
the fold. Par from finding relief, however, they only 
increased each other's terrors. Each man looked rue- 
fully in hid neighbour's face, in search of encouragement, 
but only found, in its wo-begone lineaments, a con- 
lirmotion of his own dismay. Not a word now was to 
be heard of conquering Great Britain, not a whisper 
about the sovereign virtues of economy — while the old 
women heightenexl the general gloom, by clamorously 
bewailing their fate, and incessantly calling for protec- 
tion on St. Nicholas and Peter Stuyvcsant. 

Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the lion-hearted 
Peter! — and how did they long for the comforting pre- 
sence of Anthony Van Corlear ! Indeed, a gloomy un- 
certainty hung over the fate of these adventurous heroes. 
Day after day had elapsed since the alarming message 
from the governor, without bringing any further tidings 
of his safety. Many a fearful conjecture was hazarded 
as to what had befallen him and his loyal squire. Had 
they not been devoured alive by the cannibals of Marble- 
head and Cape Cod ? Were they not put to the question 
by the great council of Amphictions? Were they not 
smothered in onions by the terrible men of Pyquag 7 In 
the midst of this consternation and perplexity, when 
horror, Uke a mighty night-mare, sat brooding upon the 
little, fat, plethoric city of New- Amsterdam, the ears of 
the multitude were suddenly startled by a strange and 
distant sound — it approached — it grew louder and louder 
— and now it resounded at the city gate. The public 
could not be mistaken in the well known sound. A 
shout of joy burst from their Ups, as the gallant Peter, 
covered with dust, and followed by his faithful trumpetter, 
came galloping into the market-place. 

The first transports of the populace having subsided, 
they gathered round the honest Anthony, as he dis- 
mounted from his horse, overwhelming him with greet- 
ings and congratulations. In breathless accents he 
related to them the marvellous adventures through which 
the old governor and himself had gone, in making their 
escape from the clutches of the terrible Amphyctions. 
But though the Stuyvesant nianuscript, with its cus- 
tomary minuteness where any thing touching the great 
Peter is concerned, is very particular as to the incidents 
of this masterly retreat, yet the particular state of the 
public aiiairs will not allow me to indulge in a full 



108 BEAUTIES OP 

recital thereof. Let it suffice to say, that, while Peter 
Stuyvesant was anxiously revolving in his mind how he 
could make good his escape with honour and dignity, 
certain of the ships sent out for the conquest of the 
Manhattoes touched at the eastern ports, to obtain need- 
ful supnlies, and to call on the grand council of the 
league for its promised co-operation. Upon hearing of 
this, the vigilant Peter perceiving that a moment's delay 
were fatal, made a secret and precipitate decampment; 
though much did it grieve his lofty soul, to be obliged to 
turn his back even upon a nation of foes. Many hair- 
breadth 'scapes and divers perilous mishaps did they sus- 
tain, as they scoured, without sound of trumpet, through 
the fair regions of the east. Already was the country in 
an uproar with hostile preparation, and they were obhged 
to take a large circuit in their flight, lurking along, 
through the woody mountains of the Devil's Backbone ; 
from whence the valiant Peter sallied forth one day, like 
a lion, and put to rout a whole legion of squatters, con- 
sisting of three generations of a prolific family, who were 
already on their way to take possession of some corner of 
the New Netherlands. Nay, the faithful Anthony had 
great difficulty at sundry times to prevent him, in the 
excess of his wrath, from descending down from the 
mountains, and falling sword in hand upon certain of 
the border-towns, who were marshalling forth their drag- 
gle-tailed militia. 

The first movements of the governor, on reaching his 
dwelling, was to mount the roof, from whence he con- 
templated with rueful aspect the hostile squadron. This 
had already come to an anchor in the bay, and consisted 
of two stout frigates, having on board, as John Josselyn, 
Gent, informs us, "three hundred valiant red coats." 
Having taken this survey, he sat himself down, and 
wrote an epistle to the commander, demanding his rea- 
son of anchoring in the harbour without obtaining pre- 
vious permission so to do. This letter was couched in 
the most dignified and courteous terms, though I have it 
from undoubted authority, that his teeth were clenched, 
and he had a bitter sardonic grin upon his visage all the 
while he wrote. Having despatched his letter, the grim 
Peter stumped to and fro about the town, with a most 
war-betokening countenance, his hand thrust into his 
breeches pockets, and whistling a low Dutch Psalm tune, 
which bore no small resemblance to the music of a north- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 109 

east wind, when a storm is brewing. The very dogs, as 
they eyed him, skulked away in dismay — while all the 
old and ugly women of New- Amsterdam ran howling at 
his heels, imploring him to save them from murder, robbe- 
ry, and pitiless ravishment! 

The reply of Col. Nicholas, who commanded the inva- 
ders, was couched in terms of equal courtesy with the 
letter of the crovernor — declarincr the ritrht and title of his 
British majesty to the province ; where he atfirmed the 
Dutch to be mere interlopers; and demanding that the 
town, forts, &c. should be forthwith rendered into his ma- 
jesty's obedience and protection — promising at the same 
time, life, liberty, estate, and free trade, to every Dutch 
denizen, who should readily submit to his majesty's go- 
vernment. 

Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle with 
some such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a crusty 
farmer, who has long been fattening upon his neighbour's 
soil, reads the loving letter of John Styles, that warns him 
of an action of ejectment. The old governor, however, 
was not to be taken by surprise, but thrusting the sum- 
mons into his breeches pocket, he stalked three times 
across the room, took a pinch of snuff with great vehe- 
mence, and then loftily waving his hand, promised to 
send an answer the next morning. In the mean time he 
called a general council of war of his privy counsellors 
and burgomasters, not for the purpose of asking their ad- 
vice, for that, as has been already shown, he valued not a 
rush; but to make known to them his sovereign determi- 
nation, and require their prompt adherence. 

Before, however, he convened his council, he resolved 
upon three important points ; first, never to give up the 
city without a little hard fighting, for he deemed it highly 
derogatory to the dignity of so renowned a city, to sutler 
itsell to be captured and stripped, without receiving a few 
kicks into the bargain. Secondly, that the majority of his 
grand council was composed of arrant poltroons, utterly 
destitute of true bottom ; and, thirdly, that he would not 
therefore suffer them to see the summons of Col. Nicholas, 
lest the easy terms it held out might induce them to clamour 
for a surrender. 

His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous 
sight to behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had 
demoUshed the whole British empire in their harangues; 
peeping ruefully out of their hiding places, and then crawl- 

10 



110 BEAUTIES OF 

ing cautiously forth, dodging through narrow lanes and 
alleys ; starting at every little dog that barked, as though 
it had been a discharge of artillery — mistaking lamp-posts 
for British grenadiers, and in the excess of their panic, 
metamorphosing pumps into formidable soldiers, levelling 
blunderbusses at their bosoms ! Having, however, in 
despite of numerous perils and difficulties of the kind, ar- 
rived safe without the loss of a single man, at the hall of ' 
assembly, they took their seats and awaited in fearful si- 
lence the arrival of the governor. In a few moments the 
wooden leg of the intrepid Peter was heard in regular 
and stout hearted thumps upon the staircase. — He entered 
the chamber arrayed in full suit of regimentals, and car- 
rying his trusty toledo, not girded on his thigh, but tucked 
under his arm. As the governor never equipped himself 
in this portentous manner, unless something of martial 
nature were working within his fearless perecranium, his 
council regarded him ruefully, as a very Janus, bearing 
iire and sword, in his iron countenance, and forgot to light 
their pipes in breathless suspense. 

The great Peter was as eloquent as he was valorous ; 
indeed, these two rare qualities seemed to go hand in 
hand in his composition ; and, unlike most great states- 
men, whose victories are only confined to the bloodless 
field of argument, he was always ready to enforce his 
hardy words by no less hardy deeds. His speeches were 
generally marked by a simplicity approaching to bluntness, 
and by truly categorical decision. Addressing the grand 
council, he touched briefly upon the perils and hardships 
he had sustained, in escaping from his crafty foes. He 
next reproached the council for wasting in idle debate 
and party feuds that time which should have been devoted 
to their country. He was particularly indignant at those 
brawlers, who, conscious of individual security, had dis- 
graced the councils of the province, by impotent hectorings 
and scurrilous invectives, against a noble and powerful 
enemy — those cowardly curs who were incessant in their 
barkings and yelpings at the lion, while distant or asleep, 
but the moment he approached, were the first to skulk 
away. He now called on those who had been so vaUant 
in their threats against Great Britain, to stand forth and 
support their vauntings by their actions — for it was deeds, 
not words, that bespoke the spirit of a nation. He pro- 
ceeded to recall the golden days of former prosperity, 
which were only to be gained by manfully withstanding 



WASHINGTON IRVING. Ill 

tlieir enemies ; for the peace, he observed, which is effected 
by force of arms, is always more sure and durable than 
that which is patched up by temporary accommodations. 
He endeavoured, moreover, to arouse their martial fire, 
by reminding them of the time, when, before the frowning 
walls of fort Christina, he had led them on to victory. 
He strove likewise to awaken their confidence, by assuring 
them of the protection of St. Nicholas, who had hitherto 
maintained them in safety, amid all the savages of the 
wilderness, the witches and squatters of the east, and the 
giants of Merry-land. Finally, he informed them of the 
insolent summons he had received, to surrender; but con- 
cluded by swearing to defend the province as long as 
heaven was on his side, and he had a wooden leg to stand 
upon. Which noble sentence he emphasized by a tre- 
mendous thwack with the broad side of his sword upon 
the table, that totally electrified his auditors. 

The privy counsellors, who had long been accustomed 
to the governor's way, and in fact had been brought into, 
as perfect discipline as were ever the soldiers of the great 
Frederick, saw that there was no use in saying a word — 
so lighted their pipes and smoked away in silence like fat 
and discreet counsellors. But the burgomasters being less 
under the governor's control, considering themselves as 
representatives of the sovereign people, and being more- 
over inflated with considerable importance and self-suffi- 
ciency, which they had acquired at those notable schools of 
wisdom and morality, the popular meetings — were not so 
easily satisfied. Mustering up fresh spirit, when they 
found there was some chance of escaping from their pre- 
sent jeopardy, without the disagreeable alternative of 
fighting, they requested a copy of the summons to surren- 
der, that they might show it to a general meeting of the 
people. 

So insolent and mutinous a request would have been 
enough to have aroused the gorge of the tranquil Van 
T wilier himself — what then must have been its effects upon 
the great Stuyvesant, who was not only a Dutchman, a 
governor, and a valiant wooden-legged soldier to boot, but 
withal a man of the most storaachful and gunpowder dis- 
position. He burst forth into a blaze of noble indignation, 
to which the famous rage of Achilles was a mere pouting 
fit — swore not a mother's son of them should see a syl- 
lable of it — that they deserved, every one of them, to be 
hanged, drawn, and quartered, for traitorously daring to 



112 BEAUTIES OF 

question the infallibility of government; that as to their 
advice and concurrence, he did not care a v?hiff of tobacco 
for either ; that he had long been harassed and thwarted 
by their cowardly councils ; but that they might thence 
forth go home, and go to bed like old women, for he was 
determined to defend the colony himself, without the as- 
sistance of them or their adherents ! So saying, he tucked 
his sword under his arm, cocked his hat upon his head, 
and girding up his loins, stumped indignantly out of the 
council-chamber, every body making room for him as he 
passed. 

No sooner had he gone than the busy burgomasters 
called a public meeting in front of the Stadt-house, where 
they appointed as chairman one Dofue Roerback, a migh- 
ty gingerbread-baker in the land, and formerly of the 
cabinet of William the Testy. He was looked up to with 
great reverence by the populace, who considered him a 
man of dark knowledge, seeing he was the first that im- 
printed new-year cakes with the mysterious hieroglyphics 
of the cock and breeches, and such like magical devices. 

This great burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill 
will against the valiant Stuyvesant, in consequence of 
having been ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet at the 
time of his taking the reins of government, addressed the 
greasy multitude in what is called a patriotic speech ; in 
which he informed them of the courteous summons to sur- 
render — of the governor's refusal to comply therewith — 
of his denying the public a sight of the summons, which, 
he had no doubt, contained conditions highly to the ho- 
nour and advantage of the province. 

He then proceeded to speak of his excellency in high 
sounding terms, suitable to the dignity and grandeur of 
his station, comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and those 
other great men of yore, who are generally quoted by 
popular orators on similar occasions. Assuring the peo- 
ple that the history of the world did not contain a despotic 
outrage to equal the present for atrocity, cruelty, tyranny, 
and blood-thirstiness ; that it would be recorded in letters 
of fire on the blood stained tablet of history ! that ages 
would roll back with sudden horror, when they came to 
view it ! That the womb of time — (by the way your orators 
and writers take strange liberties with the womb of time, 
though some would fain have us believe that time is an old 
gentleman) — that the womb of time, pregnant as it was 
with direful horrors, would never produce a parallel enor- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 113 

mity ! — ^willi a variety of other heart-rending, soul-stirring 
tropes and figures, which I cannot enumerate. Neither, 
indeed need I, for they were exactly the same that are 
used in all popular harangues and patriotic orations at the 
present day, and may be classed in rhetoric under the ge- 
neral title of Rigmarole. 

The speech of this inspired burgomaster being finished, 
the meeting fell into a kind of popular fermentation, which 

E reduced not only a string of right wise resolutions, but 
kewise a most resolute memorial, addressed to the go- 
vernor, remonstrating at his conduct ; which was no sooner 
handed to him, than he handed it into the fire ; and thus 
deprived posterity of an invaluable document, that might 
have served as a precedent to the enlightened cobblers 
and tailors of the present day ; in their sage intermeddlings 
with poUtics. 



THE WIDOW AND HER SON. 

During my residence in the country, I used frequently 
to attend at the old village church. Its shadowy aisles, 
its mouldering monuments, its dark oaken pannelling, 
all reverend with the gloom of departed years, seemed to 
fit it for the haunt of solemn meditation. A Sunday, 
too, in the country, is so holy in its repose ; such a pen- 
sive quiet reigns over the face of nature, that every rest- 
lees passion is charmed down, and we feel all the natural 
religion of the soul gently springing up within us. 
" Sweet day, so pure, so calm, so bright, 
The bridal of the earth and sky." 
I do not pretend to be what is called a devout man ; but 
there are feelings that visit me in a country church, amid 
the beautiful serenity of nature, which I experience no 
where else ; and if not a more religious, I think I am a 
better man on Sunday, than on any other day of the 
seven. 

But in this church I felt myself continually thrown 
back upon the world by the frigidity and pomp of the 
poor worms around me. The only being that seemed 
thoroughly to feel the humble and prostrate piety of a 
true Christian, was a poor decrepid old woman, bending 
under the weight of years and infirmities. She bore the 
traces of something better than abject poverty. The 

10* 



114 BEAUTIES OF 

lingerings of decent pride were visible in her appearance, 
Her dress, though humble in the extreme, was scrupu^ 
lously clean. Some trivial respect, too, had been award- 
ed her, for she did not take her seat among the village 
poor, but sat alone on the steps of the altar. She seemed 
to have survived all love, all friendship, all society ; and 
tx) have nothing left her but the hopes of heaven. When 
I saw her feebly rising and bending her aged form in 
prayer — habitually conning her prayer book, which her 
palsied hand and failing eyes would not permit her to 
read, but which she evidently knew by heart — I felt per- 
suaded that the faultering voice of that poor woman arose 
to heaven far before the responses of the clerk, the swell 
of the organ, or the chanting of the choir. 

I am fond of loitering about country churches, and 
this was so deUghtfulIy situated, that it frequently at- 
tracted me. It stood on a knoll, round which a small 
stream made a beautiful bend, and then wound its way 
through a long reach of soft meadow scenery. The church 
was surrounded by yew trees which seemed almost co- 
eval vnth itself. Its tall Gothic spire shot up lightly from 
among them, with rooks and crows generally wheeling 
about it. I was seated there one still sunny morning, 
watching two labourers who were digging a grave. They 
had chosen one of the most remote and neglected corners 
of the church-yard ; where, from the number of nameless 
graves around, it would appear that the indigent and 
friendless were huddled into the earth, I was told that 
the new made grave was for the only son of a poor wi- 
dow. While I was meditating on the distinctions of 
worldly rank, which extend thus down into the very 
dust, the toll of the bell announced the approach of the 
funeral They were the obsequies of poverty, with which 
pride had nothing to do. A coffin of the plainest mate- 
rials, without pall or other covering, was borne by some 
of the villagers. The sexton walked before with an air 
of cold indifference. There were no mock mourners in 
the trappings of affected wo; but there was one real 
mourner who feebly tottered after the corpse. It was 
the aged mother of the deceased — the poor old woman 
whom I had seen seated on the steps of the altar. She 
was supported by a humble friend, who was endeavour- 
ing to comfort her. A few of the neighbouring poor 
had joined the train, and some children of the village 
were running hand in hand, now shouting with unthink- 



WASHINGTOIV IRVING. 115 

ing mirths and now pausing to gaze with childish curio- 
sity, on the grief of the mourner. 

As the funeral train approached the grave, the parson 
issued from the church porch, arrayed in the surplice, 
with prayer-book in hand, and attended by the clerk. 
The service however, was a mere act of charity. The 
deceased had been destitute, and the surviver was penny- 
less. It was shuffled through, therefore, in form, but 
coldly and unfeelingly. The well fed priest moved but 
a ^ew steps from the church door; his voice could scarce- 
ly be heard at the grave ; and never did I hear the fune- 
ral service, that sublime and touching ceremony, turned 
into such a frigid mummery of words. 

I approached the grave. The coffin was placed on 
the ground. On it were inscribed the name and age of 
the deceased — " George Sommers, aged 26 years.-' The 
poor mother had been assisted to kneel down at the head 
of it. Her withered hands were clasped, as if in prayer, 
but J could perceive, by a feeble rocking of the body, and 
a convulsive motion of the lips, that she was gazing on 
the last relics of her son, with the yearnings of a mother's 
heart. 

Preparations were made to deposite the coffin into the 
earth. There was that busthng stir which breaks so 
harshly on the feelings of grief and affection; directions 
given in the cold tones of business : the striking of spades 
into sand and gravel ; which, at the grave of those we 
love, is, of all sounds, the most withering. The bustle 
around seemed to awaken the mother from a wretched 
reverie. She raised her glazed eyes, and looked about 
with a faint wildness. As the men afpproached with 
cords to lower the coffin into the grave, she wrung her 
hands and broke into an agony of grief. The poor wo- 
man who attended her took her by the arm, endeavour- 
ing to raise her from the earth, and to whisper something 
like consolation — "Nay, now — nay, now — don't take it 
so sorely to heart." She could only shake her head and 
wring her hands, as one not to be comforted. 

As they lowered the body into the earth, the creaking 
of the cords seemed to agonize her ; but when, on some 
accidental obstruction, there was a jostling of the coffin, 
all the tenderness of the mother burst forth ; as if any 
harm could come to him who was far beyond the reach of 
worldly suffering. 

I could see no more — my heart swelled into my throat 



1 16 BEAUTIES OF 

— my eyes filled with tears — T felt as if I were acting a 
barbarous part in standing by and gazing idly on this 
scene of maternal anguish. I wandered to another part 
of the church-yard, where I remained until the funeral 
train had dispersed. 

When I saw the mother slowly and painfully quilting 
the grave, leaving behind her the remains of all that was 
dear to her on earth, and returning to silence and destitu- 
tion, my heart ached for her. What, thought I, are the 
distresses of the rich! they have friends to soothe — plea- 
sures to beguile — a world to divert and dissipate their 
griefs. What are the sorrows of the young ! Their 
growing minds soon close above the wound — their elas- 
tic spirits soon rise above the pressure — their green and 
ductile affections soon twine round new objects. But 
tlie sorrows of the poor, who have no outward appliances 
to soothe — the sorrows of the aged, with whom life at best 
is but a wintry day, and who can look for no aftergrowth 
of joy — the sorrows of a widow, aged, sohtary, destitute, 
mourning over an only son, the last solace of her years ; 
these are indeed sorrows which make us feel the impotency 
of consolation. 

It was some time before I left the church-yard. On my 
way homeward I met with the woman who had acted as 
comforter : she was just returning from accompanying the 
mother to her lonely habitation, and I drew from her some 
particulars connected with the affecting scene I had wit- 
nessed. 

The parents of the deceased had resided in the village 
from childhood. They had inhabited one of the neatest 
cottages, and by various rural occupations, and the assist- 
ance of a small garden, had supported themselves credi- 
tably and comfortably, and led a happy and a blameless life. 
They had only one son, who had grown up to be the staff 
and pride of their age. — "Oh, Sir!'' said the good woman, 
"he was such a comely lad, so sweet-tempered, so kind to 
every one around him, so dutiful to his parents ! It did 
one's heart good, to see him of a Sunday, dressed out in 
his best, so tall, so straight, so cheery, supporting his old 
mother to church — for she was always fonder of leaning 
on George's arm, than on her good man's; and, poor soul, 
she might well be proud of him, for a finer lad there was 
not in the country round." 

Unfortunately the son was tempted, during a year of 
scarcity and agricultural hardship to enter into tloe ser- 



WASHINGTON IRV'ING. 117 

vice of one of the small craft that plied on a neighbouring 
river. He had not been long in this employ when he 
was entrapped by a press-gang, and carried off to sea. 
His parents received tidings of his seizure, but beyond 
that they could learn nothing. It was the loss of their 
main prop. The father, who was already infirm, grew 
heartless and melancholy, and sunk into his grave. The 
widow, left lonely, in her age and feebleness, could no 
longer support herself, and came upon the parish. Still 
there was a kind of feeling toward her throughout the 
village, and a certain respect as being one of the oldest 
inhabitants. As no one applied for the cottage, in which 
she had passed so many happy days, she was permitted 
to remain in it, where she lived solitary and almost help- 
less. The few wants of nature were chiefly supplied, 
from the scanty productions of her little garden, which 
the neighbours would now and then cultivate for her. 

It was but a few days before the time at which these 
circumstances were told me, that she was gathering some 
vegetables for a repast, when she heard the cottage door 
which faced the garden suddenly open. A stranger came 
out, and seemed to be looking eagerly and wildly around. 
He was dressed in seamen's clothes, was emaciated and 
ghastly pale, and bore the air of one broken by sickness 
and hardships. He saw her, and hastened towards her, 
but his steps were faint and faltering ; he sank on his 
knees before her, and sobbed like a child. The poor wo- 
man gazed upon him with a vacant and wandering eye — 
" Oh my dear, dear mother ! don't you know your son ? 
your poor boy George 1" It was indeed the wreck of 
her once noble lad ; who, shattered by wounds, by sick- 
ness and foreign imprisonment, had, at length, dragged 
his wasted limbs homeward, to repose among the scenes of 
his childhood. 

I will not attempt to detail the particulars of such a 
meeting, where joy and sorrow were so completely blen- 
ded : still he was aUve ! he was come home ! he might 
yet live to comfort and cherish her old age ! Nature, 
however, was exhausted in him ; and if any thing had 
been wanting to finirsh the work of fate, the desolation of 
his native cottage would have been sufficient. He stretch- 
ed himself on the pallet on which his widowed mother 
had passed many a sl-eepless night, and never rose from it 
again. 

The villagers when they heard that George Sommers 



118 BEAUTIES OF 

had returned, crowded to see him, offering every comfort 
and assistance that their humble means afforded. He 
Was too weak, however, to talk — he could only look his 
thanks. His mother was his constant attendant ; and 
he seemed unwilling to be helped by any other hand. 

There is something in sickness, that breaks down the 
pride of manhood ; that softens the heart, and brings it 
back to the feelings of infancy. Who that has languished, 
even in advanced life, in sickness and despondency ; who 
that has pined on a weary bed in the neglect and loneli- 
ness of a foreign land ; but has thought on the mother 
"that looked on his childhood,'' that smoothed his pillow 
and administered to his helplessness 7 Oh ! there is an 
enduring tenderness in the love of a mother to a son that 
transcends all other affections of the heart. It is neither 
to be chilled by selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor 
weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. 
She will sacrifice every comfort to his convenience ; she 
will surrender every pleasure to his enjoyment ; she will 
glory in his fame, and exult in his prosperity : — and, if 
misfortune overtake him, he will be the dearer to her from 
his misfortunes ; and if disgrace settle upon his name, 
she will still love and cherish him in spite of his disgrace ; 
and if all the world beside cast him off, she will be all 
the world to him. 

Poor George Sommers had known what it was to be in 
sickness and none to soothe — lonely and in prison, and 
none to visit him. He could not endure his mother from 
his sight ; if she moved away, his eye would follow her. 
She would sit for hours by his bed, watching him as he 
slept. Sometimes he would start from a feverish dream, 
and look anxiously up until he saw her bending over 
him ; when he would take her hand, lay it on his bosom, 
and fall asleep with the tranquillity of a child. In this 
way he died. 

My first impulse on hearing this humble tale of aflflic- 
tion, was to visit the cottage of the mourner, and admi- 
nister pecuniary assistance, and, if possible, comfort. I 
found, however, on inqviiry, that the good feelings of the 
villagers had prompted them to do every thing that the 
case admitted ; and as the poor know best how to console 
each other's sorrows, I did not venture to intrude. 

The next Sunday I was at the village church ; when, 
to my surprize, I saw the poor old woman tottering 
down the aisle to her accustomed seat on the steps of the 
altar. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 119 

She had made an effort to put on something like 
mourning for her son ; and nothing could be more touch- 
ing than this struggle between pious affection and utter 
poverty: a black ribbon or so — a faded black handker- 
chief, and one or two more such humble attempts to ex- 
press by outward signs that griefthat passes show. When 
I looked round upon the storied monuments ; the stately 
hatchments ; the cold marble pomp, with which grandeur 
mourned magnificently over departed pride, and turned 
to this poor widow, bowed down by age and sorrow at 
the altar of her God, and offering up the prayers and 
praises of a pious, though a broken heart, I felt that this 
living monument of real grief was worth them all. 

I related her story to some of the wealthy members 
of the congregation, and they were moved by it. They 
exerted themselves to render her situation more comfort- 
able, and to lighten her afflictions. It was, however, 
but smoothing a few steps to the grave. In the course 
of a Sunday or two after, she was missed from her usual 
seat at church, and before I left the neighbourhood I heard, 
with a feeling of satisfaction, that she had quietly breathed 
her last, and had gone to rejoin those she loved, in that 
world where sorrow is never known, and friends are never 
parted. 



STORM AT SEA. 

The storm increased with the night. The sea was lash- 
ed into tremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sul- 
len sound of rushing waves, and broken surges. Deep 
called unto deep. At times the black volume of clouds 
over head seemed rent asunder by flashes oflightnmgthat 
quivered along the foaming billows, and made the suc- 
ceeding darkness doubly terrible. The thunders bellow- 
ed over the wild waste of waters, and were echoed and 
prolonged by the mountain waves. As I saw the ship 
staggering and plunging among these roaring caverns, it 
seemed miraculous that she regained her balance, or pre- 
served her buoyancy. Her yards would dip in the 
water; her bow was almost buried beneath the waves. 
Sometimes an impending surge appeared ready to over- 
whelm her, and nothing but a dexterous movement of 
the helm preserved her from the shock. 



120 BEAUTIES OF 

When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still fol- 
lowed me. The whistling of the wind through the rig- 
ging sounded Uke funeral waihngs. The creaking of the 
masts, the straining and groaning of bulk heads, as the 
ship laboured in the weltering sea, were frightful. As 
I heard the waves rushing along the side of the ship, and 
roaring in my very ear, it seemed as if Death were raging 
round this floating prison, seeking for his prey ; the mere 
starting of a nail, the yawning of a seam might give him 
entrance. 



JOHN BULL. 

There is no species of humour in which the English 
more excel, than that which consists in caricaturing and 
giving ludicrous appellations, or nicknames. In this 
way they have whimsically designated, not merely indi- 
viduals, but nations; and in their fondness for pushing 
a joke, they have not spared even themselves. One 
would think that, in personifying itself, a nation would 
be apt to picture something grand, heroic, and imposing,; 
but it is characteristic of the peculiar humour of the 
English, and of their love for what is blunt, comic and 
familiar, that they have embodied their national oddities in 
the figure of a sturdy corpulent old fellow, with a 
three-cornered hat, red waistcoat, leather breeches, and 
stout oaken cudgel. Thus they have taken a singular 
delight in exibiting their most private foibles in a laugh- 
able point of view ; and have been so successful in their 
delineations, that there is scarcely a being in actual exist- 
ence more absolutely present to the public mind than 
that eccentric personage, John Bull. 

Perhaps the continual contemplation of the character 
thus drawn of them, has contributed to fix it upon the 
nation ; and thus to give reality to what at first may 
have been painted in a great measure from imagination. 
Men are apt to acquire peculiarities that are continually 
ascribed to them. The common orders of English seem 
wonderfully captivated with the beau ideal which they 
have formed of John Bull, and endeavour to act up to the 
broad caricature that is perpetually before their eyes. Un- 
luckily, they sometimes make their boasted Bull-ism an 
apology for their prejudice or grossness ; and this I have 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 121 

especially noticed among those truly home-bred and genu- 
ine sons of the soil who have never migrated beyond the 
sound of Bow-bells. If one of these should be a little 
uncouth in speech, and apt to utter impertinent truths, 
he confesses that he is a real John Bull, and always speaks 
his mind. If he now and then flies into an unreason- 
able burst of passion about trifles, he observes, that John 
Bull is a choleric old blade, but then his passion is over 
in a moment, and he bears no malice. If he betrays a 
coarseness of taste, and an insensibility to foreign refine- 
ments, he thanks heaven for his ignorance — he is a plain 
John Bull, and has no relish for frippery and nicknacks. 
his very proneness to be gulled by strangers, and to pay 
extravagantly for absurdities, is excused under the plea 
of munificence — for John is always more generous than 
wise. 

Thus, under the name of John Bull, he will contrive to 
argue every fault into a merit, and will frankly convict 
hiu^self of being the honestest fellow in existence. 

However Uttle, therefore, the character may have 
suited in the first instance, it has gradually adapted itself 
to the nation, or rather they have adapted themselves to 
each other ; and a stranger who wishes to study English 
peculiarities, may gather much valuable information from 
the innumerable portraits of John Bull, as exhibited in 
the windows of the caricature shops. Still, however, he 
is one of those fertile humourists, that are continually 
throwing out new portraits, and presenting different as- 
pects from different points of view ; and, often as he has 
been described, I cannot resist the temptation to give a 
slight sketch of him, such as he has met my eye. 

John Bull, to all appearance, is a plain downright mat- 
ter-of-fact fellow, with much less of poetry about him 
than rich prose. There is little of romance in his nature, 
but a vast deal of strong natural feelino;. He excels in 
humour more than in wit ; is jolly rather than gay; me- 
lancholy rather than morose ; can easily be moved to a 
sudden tear, or surprised to a broad laugh ; but he loathes 
sentiment, and has no turn for light pleasantry. He is 
a boon companion, if you allow hiin to have his humour, 
and to talk about himself; and he will stand by a friend 
in a quarrel, with life and purse, however soundly he 
may be cudgelled. 

In this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a propen- 
sity to be somewhat too ready. He is a busy-minded 

F 11 



122 BEAUTIES OF 

personage, who thinks not merely for himself and family, 
but for all the country round, and is most generously dis- 
posed to be every body's champion. He is continually, 
volunteerino; his services to settle his neijjhbour's aiiairs, 
and takes it ia great dudgeon if they engage in any mat- 
ter of consequence without asking his advice ; though he 
seldom engages in any friendly otfice of the kind without 
finishing by getting into a squabble with all parties, and 
then railing bitterly at their ingratitude. He unluckily 
took lessons in his youth in the noble science of defence, 
and having accomplished himself in the use of his limbs 
and his weapons, and become a perfect master at boxing 
and cudgel play, he has had a troublesome life of it ever 
since. He cannot hear of a quarrel between the most 
distant of his neighbours, but he begins incontinently to 
fumble with the head of his cudgel, and to consider 
whether his interest or honour does not require that he 
should meddle in the broil. Indeed he has extended his 
relations of pride and policy so completely over the whole 
cduntry, that no event can take place, without infringing 
some of his finely-spun rights and dignities. Couched in 
his little domain, with these filaments stretching forth in 
every direction, he is like some choleric, bottle- bellied old 
spider, who has woven his web over a whole chamber so 
that a fly cannot buz/Z, nor a breeze blow, without startling 
his repose, and causing him to sally forth wrathfully 
from his den. 

Though really a good-hearted, good-tempered old fel- 
low at lx)ttom, yet he is singularly fond of being in the 
midst of contention. It is one of his pecuUarities, how- 
ever, that he only relishes the beginning of an aflray ; he 
always goes into a fight with alacrity, but he comes out of 
it grumbling even when victorious ; and though no one 
fights with more obstinacy to carry a contested point, 
yet, when the battle is over, and he comes to the recon- 
ciliation, he is so much taken up with the mere shaking of 
hands, that he is apt to let his antagonist pocket all that 
they have been quarrelling about. It is not, therefore, 
fighting that he ought to be so much on his guard against, 
as making friends. It is difficult to cudgel him out of a 
farthing ; but put him in a good humour, and you may bar- 
gain him out of aJl the money in his pocket. He is 
like one of his own ships, which will weather the roughest 
storm uninjured, but roll its masts overboard in the suc- 
ceeding cairn. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 123 

He is a little fond of playing the magnifico abroad ; of 
pulling out a long purse ; flinging his money bravely about 
at boxing matches, horse races, and cockfights, and car- 
rying a high head among "gentlemen of the fancy;" but 
immediately after one of these fits of extravagance, he will 
be taken writh violent qualms of economy ; stop short at 
the most trivial expenditure ; t ilk desperately of being 
ruined, and brought upon the parish,- and in such moods, 
he will not pay the smallest tradesman's bill without 
violent altercation. He is, in fact, the most punctual 
and discontented paymastet in the world ; drawing his 
coin out of his breeches' pocket with infinite reluctance ; 
paying to the uttermost farthing, but accompanying every 
guinea with a growl. 

With all this talk of economy, however, he is a bountiful 
provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. His economy is 
of a whimsical kind, its chief object being to devise how 
he may aflTord to be extravagant : for he will bewrudcre 
himself a beafsteak and a pint of port one day, that he 
may roast an ox whole, broach a hogshead of ale, and 
treat all his neighbours on the next. 

His domestic establishment is enormously expensive : 
not so much from any great outward parade, as from the 
great consumption of solid beef and pudding ; the vast 
number of followers he feeds and clothes ; and his singu- 
lar disposition to pay hugely for small services. He is a 
most kind and indulgent master, and, provided his ser- 
vants humour his peculiarities, flatter his vanity a little 
now and then, and do not peculate grossly on him before 
his face, they may manage him to perfection. Every 
thing that lives on him seems to thrive and grow fat. 
His house servants are well paid, and pampered, and 
have little to do. His horses are sleek and lazy, and 
prance slowly before his state carriage ; and his house 
dogs sleep quietly before Ms door, and will hardly bark 
at a house-breaker. 

His fajnily mansion is an old castellated manor-house, 
grey with age, and of a most venerable, though weather 
beaten appearance. It has been built upon no regular 
plan, but is a vast accumulation of parts, erected in var- 
ious tastes and ages. The centre bears evident traces of 
Saxon architecture, and is as solid a^s ponderous stone and 
old English oak can make it. Like all the reUcs of that 
style, it is full of, obscure p>a6sages, intricate mazes, and 
dusky chambers ; and though these have been partially 



124 BEAUTIES OP 

lighted up in modern days, yet there are many places 
where you must still grope in the dark. Additions have 
been made to the origmal edifice from time to time and 
great alterations have taken place; towers and battle- 
ments have been erected during the wars and tumults ; 
wings built in times of peace; and out-houses, lodges, 
and offices, run up according to the whim or convenience 
of different generations : until it has become one of the 
most spacious, rambling tenements imaginable. An en- 
tire wing is taken up with a family chapel ; a reverend 
pile that must once have been exceedingly sumptuous, 
and, indeed, in spite of having been altered and simpli- 
fied at various periods, has still a look of solenm religious 
pomp. Its walls within are storied with the monuments 
of John's ancestors; and it is snugly fitted up with soft 
cushions and well-lined chairs, where such of his family 
as are inclined to church services, may doze comfortably 
in the discharge of their duties. 

To keep up this chapel has cost John much money; 
but he is staunch in his religion, and piqued in his zeal, 
from the circumstance that many dissenting chapels have 
been erected in his vicinity, and several of his neighbours, 
with whom he has had quarrels, are strong papists. 

To do the duties of the chapel he maintains, at a large 
expense, a pious and portly family chaplain. He is a 
most learned and decorous personage, and a truly well 
bred Christian, who always backs the old gentleman in 
his opinions, winks discreetly at his little peccadilloes, re- 
bukes the children when refractory, and is of great use in 
exhorting the tenants to read their bibles, say their pray- 
ers, and, above all, to pay their rents punctually, and 
without grumbhng. 

The family apartments are in a very antiquated taste, 
somewhat heavy, and often inconvenient, but full of the 
solemn magnificence of former times; fitted up with rich 
though faded tapestry, unwieldy furniture, and loads of 
massy gorgeous old plate. The vast fire-places, ample 
kitchens, extensive cellars, and sunptuous banqueting 
halls — all speak of the roaring hospitality of days of yore, 
of which the modern festivity at the manor-house is but 
a shadow. There are, however, complete suites of rooms 
apparently deserted and time worn ; and towers and tur- 
rets that are tottering to decay; so that in high winds 
there is a danger of their tumbling about the ears of the 
household. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 125 

John has frequently been advised to have the old edi- 
fice thoroughly overhauled ; and to have some of the use- 
less parts pulled dow^n, and the others strengthened with 
their materials; but the old gentleman always grows 
testy on this subject. He swears the house is an excel- 
lent house — that it is tight and weather proof, and not 
to be shaken by tempests — that it has stood for several 
hundred years, and, therefore, is not likely to tumble 
down now — that as to its being inconvenient, his family 
is accustomed to the inconveniences, and would not be 
comfortable without them — that as to its unwieldly size 
and irregular construction, these result from its being the 
growth of centuries, and being improved by the wdsdora 
of every generation — that an old iamily like his, requires 
a large house to dwell in; new upstart families may live 
in modern cottages and snug boxes, but an old English 
family should inhabit an old Enghsh manor-house. If 
you point out any part of the building as superfluous, he 
insists that it is material to the strength or decoration of 
the rest, and the harmony of the whole ; and swears that 
the parts are so built into each other, that, if you pull 
down one, you run the risk of having the whole about your 
ears. 

The secret of the matter is, that John has a great dis- 
position to protect and patronize. He thinks it indispen- 
sible to the dignity of an ancient and honourable family, 
to be bounteous in its appointments, and to be eaten up 
by dependants ; and so, partly from pride, and partly from 
kind-heariedness, he makes it a rule always to give shel- 
ter and maintainance to his superannuated servants. 

The consequence is, that, like many other venerable 
family establishments, his manor is encumbered by old 
retainers whom he cannot turn off, and an old style which 
he cannot lay down. His mansion is lilce a great hos- 
pital of invalids, and, with all its magnitude, is not a whit 
too large for its inhabitants. Not a nook or a corner but 
is of use in housing some useless personage. Groups 
of veteran beef-eaters, gouty pensioners, and retired 
heroes of the buttery and the larder, are seen lolling 
about its walls, crawlincp over its lawns, dozing under its 
trees, or sunning themselves upon the benches at its 
doors. Every office and out-house is garrisoned by these 
supernumeraries and their families ; for they are amaz- 
ingly prolific, and when they die off, are sure to leave 
Joan a legacy of hungry mouths to be provided for. A 

IJ* 



126 BEAUTIES OP 

mattock cannot be struck against the most mouklerinfr 
tnmhle-down tower, but out pops, from some cranny or 
loop-hole, the grey pate of some superannuated hanger-on, 
who has lived at John's expense all his life, and makes 
the most grievous outcry, at their pulling down the roof 
from over the head of a worn-out servant of the family. 
This is an appeal that John's honest heart never can with- 
stand; so that a man, who has faithfully eaten his beef 
and pudding all his life, is sure to be rewarded with a 
pipe and tankard in his old days. 

A great part of his park, also, is turned into paddocks 
where his broken down chargers are turned loose to graze 
undisturbed for the remainder of their existence — a wor- 
thy example of grateful recollection, which, if some of 
his neighbours were to imitate, would not be to their dis- 
credit. Indeed, it is one of his greatest pleasures to 
point out these old steeds to his visiters, to dwell on their 
good qualities, extol their past services, and boast with 
some little vain-glory, of the perilous adventures and 
hardy exploits, through which they have carried him. 

He is given, however, to indulge his veneration for 
family usages, and family incumbrances, to a whimsical 
extent. His manor is infested by gangs of gipsies ; yet 
he will not sufter them to be driven off, because they 
have infested the place time out of mind, and been regu- 
lar poachers upon every generation of the family. He 
will scarcely permit a dry branch to be lopped from the 
great trees that surround the house, lest it should molest 
the rooks, that have bred there for centuries. Owls 
have taken possession of the dovecote ; but they are he- 
reditary owls, and must not be disturbed. Swallows 
have nearly choked up every chimney with their nests ; 
martins build in every frieze and cornice ; crows flutter 
about the towers, aud perch on every weathercock ; and 
old grey-headed rats may be seen in every quarter of the 
house, running in and out of their holes undauntedly, in 
hroad daylight. In short, John has such a reverence for 
every thing that has been long in the family, that he will 
not hear even of abuses being reformed, because they are 
good old family abuses. 

All these whims and habits have concurred wofully 
to drain the old gentleman's purse; and as he prides 
himself on punctuality in money matters, and wishes to- 
maintain his credit in the neighbourhood, they have 
caused him great perplexity in meeting his engagements. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 127 

This, too, has been increased, by the altercations and 
heart-burnings which are continually taking place in his 
family. His children have been brought up to different 
callings, and are of different ways of thinking; and as 
they have always been allowed to speak their mind free- 
ly, they do not fail to exercise the privilege most clamo- 
rously in the present posture of his affairs. Some stand 
up for the honour of the race, and are clear that the old 
establishment should be kept up ia all its state, whatever 
may be the cost ; others, who are more prudent and con- 
siderate, entreat the old gentleman to retrench his ex- 
penses, and to put his whole system of housekeeping on 
u more moderate footing. He has, indeed, at times, 
seemed inclined to listen to their opinions, but their 
wholesome advice has been completely defeated by the 
obstreperous conduct of one of his sons. This is a noisy 
rattle-pated fellow, of rather low habits, who neglects 
his business to frequent ale-houses — is the orator of vil- 
lage clubs, and a complete oracle, among the poorest of 
his father's tenants. No sooner does he hear any of his 
brothers mention reform or retrenchment, than up he 
jumps, takes the words out of their mouths, and roars 
out for an overturn. When his tongue is once going, 
nothing can stop it. He rants about the room ; hectors 
the old man about his spendthrift practices ; ridicules his 
tastes and pursuits; insists that he shall turn the old 
servants out of doors ; give the broken down horses to 
the hounds ; send the fat chaplain packing, and take a 
field preacher in his place — nay, that the whole family 
mansion shall be levelled with the ground, and a plain 
one of brick and mortar built in its place. He rails at 
every social entertainment and family festivity, and 
skulks away growling to the ale-house whenever an equi- 
page drives up to the door. Though constantly com- 
plaining of the emptiness of his purse, yet he scruples 
not to spend all his pocket-money in these tavern convo- 
cations, and even runs up scores, for the liquor over 
which he preaches about his father's extravagance. 

It may readily be imagined how little such thwarting 
agrees with the old cavalier's fiery temperament. He 
has become so irritable, from repeated crossings, that the 
mere mention of retrenchment or reform is a signal for 
a brawl between him and the tavern oracle. As the lat- 
ter is too sturdy and refractory for paternal discipline, 
having grown out of all fear of the cudgel, they have fre- 



128 BEAUTIES OP 

quent scenes of wordy warfare, which at times run so 
high, that John is fain to call in the aid of his son Tom, 
an officer who was served abroad, but is at present living 
at home, on half pay. This last is sure to stand by the 
old gentleman, right or wrong ; likes nothing so much 
as a racketing roystering life ; and is ready, at a wink or 
nod, to out sabre, and flourish it over the orator's head, 
if he dai"6s to array himself against paternal authority. 

These family dissensions, as usual, have got abroad, 
and are rare food for scandal in John's neighbourhood. 
People begin to look wise, and shake their heads, when- 
ever his affairs are mentioned. They all " hope that 
matters are not so bad with him as represented ; but 
when a man's own children begin to rail at his extrava- 
gance, things must be badly managed. They understand 
he is mortgaged over head and ears, and is continually 
dabbling with money lenders. He is certainly an open- 
handed old gentleman, but they fear he has lived too 
fast ; indeed, they never knew any good come of this 
fondness for hunting, racing, revelling, and prize-fighting. 
In short, Mr. Bull's estate is a very fine one, and 
has been in the family a long while ; but for all that, they 
have known many finer estates come to the hammer." 

What is worst of all, is the effect which these pecu- 
niary embarrassments and domestic feuds have had on 
the poor man himself. Instead of that jolly round cor- 
poration, and snug rosy face, which he used to present, 
he has of late become as shrivelled and shrunk as a frost- 
bitten apple. His scarlet gold-laced waistcoat, which 
bellied out so bravely in those prosperous days when he 
sailed before the wind, now hangs loosely about him like 
a mainsail in a calm. His leather breeches are all in folds 
and wrinkles, and apparently have much ado to hold up 
the boots that yawn on both sides of his once sturdy 
legs. 

Instead of strutting about as formerly, with his three- 
cornered hat on one side ; flourishing his cudgel, and 
bringing it down every moment with a hearty thump 
upon the ground ; looking every one sturdily in the face, 
and trolling out a stave of a catch or a drinking song ; 
he now goes about whistling thoughtfully to himself, 
with his head drooping down, his cudgel tucked under 
his arm, and his hands thrust to the bottom of his breeches 
pockets, which are evidently empty. 

Such is the plight of honest John Bull at present ; yet 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 129 

for all this the old fellow's spirit is as tall and as gallant 
as ever. If you drop the least expression of sympathy 
or Goncern, he takes fire in an instant ; swears that he is 
the richest, and stoutest fellow in the country ; talks of 
laying out large sums to adorn his house or to buy 
another estate ; and, with a valiant swagger and grasping 
of his cudgel, longs exceedingly to have another bout at 
quarterstaff. 

Tliough there may be something rather whimsical in 
all this, yet I confess I cannot look upon John's situation 
without strong feelings of interest. With all his odd 
humours and obstinate prejudices, he is a sterling heart- 
ed old blade. He may not be so wonderfully fine a fel- 
low as he thinks himself, but he is at least twice as good 
as his neighbours represent him. His virtues are all 
his own ; all plain, home-bred and unaffected. His very 
faults smack of the raciness of his good qualities. His 
extravagance savours of his generosity ; his quarrelsome- 
ness of his courage ; his credulity of his open faith ; his 
vanity of his pride ; and his bluntness of his sincerity. 
They are all the redundancies of a rich and liberal cha- 
racter. He is like his own oak ; rough without, but 
sound and solid within ; whose bark abounds with ex- 
crescences in proportion to the growth and grandeur of 
the timber ; and whose branches make a fearful groaning 
and murmuring in the least storm, from their very mag- 
nitude and luxuriance. There is something, too, in the 
appearance of his old family mansion, that is extremely 
poetical and picturesque ; and, as long as it can be ren- 
dered comfortably habitable, I should almost tremble to 
see it meddled with during the present conflict of tastes 
and opinions. Some of his advisers are no doubt good 
architects that might be of service ; but many I fear are 
mere levellers, who, when they had once got to work 
with their mattocks on the venerable edifice, would never 
stop until they had brought it to the ground, and per- 
haps buried themselves among the ruins. All that I 
wish is, that John's present troubles may teach him 
more prudence in future. That he may cease to distress 
his mind about other people's aiiliirs ; that he may give 
up the fruitless attempt to promote the good of his neigh- 
bours, and the peace and happiness of the world, by dint 
of the cudgel ; that he may remain quietly at home ; 
gradually get his house into repair ; cultivate his rich es- 
tate according to his fancy ; husband his income — if he 

F2 



130 BEAUTIES OF 

thinks proper ; bring his unruly children into order — if 
he can ; renew the jo\ial scenes of ancient prosperity ; and 
long enjoy, on his paternal lands, a green, an honourable, 
and a merry old age. 



CONSEaUENCE. 

The doctor now felt all the dignity of a landholder ri- 
sing within him. He had a little of the German pride 
of territory in his composition, and almost looked upon 
himself as owner of a principality. He began to com- 
plain of the fatigue of business ; and, was fond of riding 
out " to look at his estate." His little expeditions to his 
lands were attended with a bustle and parade that cre- 
ated a sensation throughout the neighbourhood. His 
wall-eyed horse stood stamping, and whisking off the 
flies, for a full hour before the house. Then the doctor's 
saddle-bags would be brought out and adjusted; then, 
after a little while, his cloak would be rolled up and 
strapped to the saddle; then his umbrella would be 
buckled to the cloak; while, in the mean time, a group of 
ragged boys, that observant class of beings would gather 
before the door. At length the doctor would issue forth, 
in a pair of jack-boots that reached above his knees, and 
a cocked hat flapped down in front. As he was a short, 
fat man, he took some time to mount into the saddle ; 
and when there, he took some time to have the saddle and 
stirrups properly adjusted, enjoying the wonder and ad- 
miration of the urchin crowd. Even after he had set 
off, he would pause in the middle of the street, or trot 
back two or three times to give some parting orders which 
were answered by the housekeeper from the door, or 
Dolph from the study, or the black cook from the cellar, 
or the chambermaid from the garret window ; and there 
were generally some last words bawled after him, just as 
he was turning the corner. 

The whole neighbourhood would be aroused by this 
pomp and circumstance. The cobler would leave his 
last ; the barber would thrust out his frizzed head, with 
a comb sticking in it ; a knot would collect at the gro- 
cer's door, and the word would be buzzed from one end 
of the street to the other, " The Doctor's riding out to 
his country seat. " 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 131 



THE COCKLOFT FAMTLY. 

Thfj Cockloft family, of which I have made such fre- 
quent mention, is of great antiquity, if there be any truth 
in the genealogical troe which hangs up in my cousin's 
Ubrary. They trace their descent from a celebrated Ro- 
man Knight, cousin to the progenitor of his Majesty of 
Britain, who left his native country on occasion of some 
disgust ; and coming into Wales, became a great favourite 
of Prince Madoc, and accompanied that famous argonaut 
in the voyage which ended in the discovery of this con- 
tinent,— Though a member of the family, I have some- 
times ventured to doubt the authenticity of this portion 
of their annals, to the great vexation of cousin Christo- 
pher, who is looked u}) to as the head of our house ; and 
who, though as orthodox as a bishop, would sooner give 
up the whole decalogue than lop off a single limb of the 
family tree. From time immemorial, it has been the rule 
for the Cocklofts to marry one of their own name ; and 
as they always bred lilie rabbits, the family has increas- 
ed and multiplied like that of Adam and Eve. In truth 
their number is almost incredible ; and you can hardly 
go into any part of the country without starting a warren 
of genuine Cocklofts. Every person of the least ob- 
servation, or experience, must have observed that where 
this practice of marrying cousins, and second cousins, 
prevails in a family, every member, in the course of a 
few generations, becomes queer, humourous, and original ; 
as much distinguished from the common race of mongrels 
as if he were of a different species. This has happened in 
our family, and particularly in that branch of it of which 
Christopher Cockloft, Esq. is the head — Christopher, is, 
in fact, the only married man of the name who resides in 
town ; his family is small, having lost most of his chil- 
dren when young, by the excessive care he took to bring 
them up like vegelables. This was one of the first whim- 
whams, and a confounded one it was; as his children 
might have told, had they not fallen victims to his ex- 
periment before they could talk. He had got from some 
quack philosopher or other, a notion that there was a 
complete analogy between children and plants, and that 
they ought to be both reared alike. Accordingly he sprink 
led them every morning with water, laid them out in the 



132 BEAUTIES OP 

sun, as he did his geraniums ; and if the season was re- 
markably dry, repeated this wise experiment three or 
four times of a morning. The consequence was, the 
poor httle souls died one after another, except Jeremy 
and his two sisters ; who, to be sure, are a trio of as odd, 
runty, mummy-looking originals as ever Hogarth fancied 
in his most happy moments. Mrs. Cockloft, the larger 
if not the better half of my cousin, often remonstrated 
against this vegetable theory ; — and even brought the par- 
son of the parish, in which my cousin's country house is 
situated, to her aid; but in vain, Christopher persisted, 
and attributed the failure of his plan to its not having 
been exactly conformed to. As I have mentioned Mrs. 
Cockloft, I may as well say a little more about her while I 
am in the humour. She is a lady of wonderful nota- 
bility, a warm admirer of shining mahogany, clean hearths 
and her husband : whom she considers the vidsest man in 
the world, bating Will Wizard and the parson of our 
parish ; the last of whom is her oracle on all occasions. 
She goes constantly to church every Sunday and saint's 
day, and insists upon it that no man is entitled to ascend 
a pulpit unless he has been ordained by a bishop ; nay, 
so far does she carry her orthodoxy, that all the argu- 
ments in the world will never persuade her that a Pres- 
byterian or Baptist, or even a Calvanist, has any possible 
chance of going to heaven. Above every thing else, how- 
ever she abhors Paganism ; can scarcely refrain from lay- 
ing violent hands on a Pantheon when she meets with it ; 
and was very nigh going into hysterics, when my cou- 
sin insisted that one of his boys should be christened after 
our laureate, because the parson of the parish had told 
her that Pindar was the name of a Pagan writer, famous 
for his love of boxing-matches wresthng, and horse-ra- 
cing. To sum up all her qualifications in the shortest 
possible way, Mrs. Cockloft is, in the true sense of the 
phrase, a good sort of a woman ; and I often congratu- 
late my cousin on possessing her. The rest of the lamily 
consists of Jeremy Cockloft, the younger, who has alrea- 
dy been mentioned, and the two Miss Cocklofts, or rather 
the young ladies, as they have been called by the servants 
tune out of mind ; not that they are really young, the 
younger being somewhat on the shady side of thirty — 
but it has ever been the custom to call every member of 
the family young under fifty. In the south-east corner 
of the house, I hold quiet possession of an old-fashioned 



WASHINGTON IBVING. 133 

apartment, where myself and my elbow chair are suffered 
to amuse ourselves undisturbed, save at meal times. This 
apartment old Cockloft has facetiously denominated Cou- 
sin Launce's Paradise ; and the good old gentleman has 
two or three favourite jokes about it, which are served up 
as regularly as the standing family dish of beefsteaks and 
onions, which every day maintains its station at the foot 
of the table, in defiance of mutton, poultry, or even venison 
itself. 

Though the family is apparently small, yet, like most 
old establishments of the kind, it does not want for hon- 
orary members. It is the city rendezvous of the Cock- 
lofts; and we are continually enlivened by the company 
of half a score of uncles, aunts, and cousins in the fortieth 
remove, from all parts of the county, who profess a won- 
derful regard for Cousin Christopher; and overwhelm 
every member of his household, down to the cook in the 
kitchen, with their attentions. We have for three weeks 
past been greeted with the company of two worthy old 
spinsters, who came down from the country to settle a 
law suit. They have done little else but retail stories of 
their village neighbours, knit stockings, and take snuff, 
all the time they have been here : the whole family are be- 
wildered with church-yard tales of sheeted ghosts, white 
horses without heads, and with large goggle eyes in their 
buttocks ; and not one of the old servants dare bud^e an 
inch after dark without a numerous company at his heels. 
My cousin's visiters, however, always return his hospi- 
tality with due gratitude, and now and then remind him 
of their fraternal regard, by present of a pot of apple 
sweetmeats, or a barrel of sour cider at Christmas. 
Jeremy displays himself to great advantage among his 
country relations, who all think him a prodigy, and of- 
ten stand astounded, in " gaping wonderment," at his 
natural philosophy. He lately frightened a simple old 
uncle almost out of his wits, by giving it as his opinion 
that the earth would one day be scorched to ashes by the 
eccentric gambols of the famous comet, so much talked 
of; and positively asserted that this world revolved round 
the sun, and that the moon was certainly inhabited. 

The family mansion bears equal marks of antiquity 
with its inhabitants. As the cocklofts are remarkable 
for their attachment to every thing that has remained 
long in the family they are bigoted towards their old 
edihce, and I dare say would sooner have it crumble 

13 



134 BEAUTIES OP 

about their ears than abandon it. The consequence is. 
it has been so patched up and repaired, that it has be 
come as full of whims and oddities as its tenants ; re- 
quires to be nursed aud humoured like a gouty old cod- 
ger of an alderman ; and reminds one of the famous ship ' 
m which a certain admiral circumnavigated the globe, 
which was so patched and timbered, in order to preserve 
so great a curiosity, that at length not a particle of] 
the original remained. Whenever the wind blows, 
the old mansion makes a most perilous groaning; and 
every storm is sure to make a day's work for the carpen- 
ter, who attends upon it as regularly as the family phy- , 
sician. This predilection for every thing that has been 
long in the family shows itself in every particular. The 
domestics are all grown grey in the service of our house. ' 
We have a little, old, crusty, grey-headed negro, who has 
lived through two or three generations of the Cocklofts, 
and, of course, has become a personage of no little impor- 
tance in the household. He calls all the family by their 
christian names ; tells long stories about how he dandled 
them on his knee when they were cliildren : and is a com- 
plete Cockloft chronicle for the last seventy years. 
The family carriage was made in the last French war, 
and the old horses were most indubitably foaled in 
]Noah's ark^resembling marvellously, in gravity of de- 
meanour, those sober animals which may be seen any day 
of the year in the streets of Philadelphia, walking their 
snail's pace, a dozen in a row, and harmoniously jing- 
ling their bells. Whim-whams are the inheritance o£ 
the Cocklofts, and every member of the household is a 
humourist sui generis, from the master down to the foot- 
man. The very cats and dogs are humourists ; and we 
have a little runty scoundrel of a cur, who, whenever the 
church bells ring, will run to the street door, turn up his 
nose in the wind and howl most piteously. Jeremy in- 
sists that this is owing to a peculiar delicacy in the or- 
ganization of his ears, and supports his position by many 
learned arguments which nobody can understand : but 
I am of opinion that it is a mere Cockloft whim-wham, 
which the little cur indulges, being descended from a 
race of dogs which has flourished in the family ever since 
the time of my grandfather. A propensity to save every 
thing that bears the stamp of family antiquity has 
accumulated an abundance of trmnpery and rubbish 
with which the house is encumbered, from the cellar to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 135 

the garret; and every room, and closset, and corner, is 
crammed with three-legged chairs, clocks without hands, 
swords without scabbards, cocked hats, broken candle- 
sticks, and looking glasses with frames carved into fan- 
tastic shapes, of feathered sheep, woolly birds, and other 
animals that have na name except in books of heraldry. 
The ponderous mahogany chairs in the parlour are of 
such unwieldy proportions, that it is quite a serious un- 
dertaking to gallant one of them across the room ; and 
sometimes make a most equivocal noise when you sit down 
in a hurry : the mantle-piece is decorated with little 
lacquered earthen shepherdesses — some of which are with- 
out toes, and others without noses ; and the fire-place 
is garnished out with Dutch tiles, exhibiting a great va- 
riety of Scripture pieces, which my good old soul of a 
cousin takes infinite delight in explaining. Poor Jeremy 
hates them as he does poison ; for while a younker, he 
was obliged by his mother to learn the history of a tile 
every Sunday morning before she would permit him to 
join his play-mates : this was a terrible affair for Jere- 
my, who by the time he had learned the last had forgot- 
ten the first, and was obliged to begin again. He assured 
me the other dav, with a round oollecre oath, that if the 
old house stood out till he inherited it he would have 
these tiles taken out, and ground into powder, for the per- 
fect hatred he bore them. 

My cousin Christopher enjoys unlimited authority in 
the mansion of his forefathers ; he is truly what may be 
termed a hearty old blade — has a florid, sunshiny coun- 
tenance, and, if you will only praise his wine, and laugh 
at his long stories, himself and his house are heartily at 
your service. The first condition is indeed easily com- 
plied with, for, to tell the truth, his wine is excellent; 
but his stories, being not of the best, and often repeated, 
are apt to create a disposition to yawn, being, in addition 
to their other qualities, most unreasonably long. His 
prolixity is the more afflicting to me, since I have all his 
stories by heart; and when he enters upon one, it re- 
minds me of Newark causeway, where the traveller sees 
the end at the distance of several mile^. To the great 
misfortune of all his acquaintance cousin Cockloft is 
blessed with a most provoking retentive memory, and 
can give day and date, and name and age and circum- 
stance, with most unfeeling precisian. These, however, 
a]'e but trivial foibles, forgotten, or remembered only 









I 

136 BEAUTIES OP 

with a kind of tender respectful pity, by those who know 
with what a rich redundant harvest of kindness and gen- g_ 
erosity his heart is stored. It would delight you to see | 
with what social gladness he welcomes a visiter into his 
house; and the poorest man that enters his door never 
leaves it without a cordial invitation to sit down and 
drink a glass of wine. By the honest farmers round his 
country seat, he is looked up to with love and rever- 
ence ; they never pass him by without his inquiring after 
the welfare of their families, and receiving a cordial shake 
of his liberal hand. There are but two classes of people 
who are thrown out of the reach of his hospitality — and 
these are Frenchmen and Democrats. The old gentle- 
man considers it treason against the majesty of good i 
breeding to speak to any visiter with his hat on ; but the ^ 
moment a Democrat enters his door, he forthwith bids i; 
his man Pompey bring his hat, puts it on his head, and j 
salutes him with, an appalling " Well, sir, what do you 'i 
want with me 7 " i 

He has a profound contempt for Frenchmen, and [ 
firmly believes that they eat nothing but frogs and soup- i 
maigre in their own country. This unlucky prejudice 
is partly owing to my great aunt Pamelia having been, 
many years ago, run away with by a French Count, who 
turned out to be the son of a generation of barbers; and 
partly to a little vivid spark of toryism, which burns in 
a secret corner of his heart.- He was a loyal subject of 
the crown ; has hardly yet recovered the shock of inde- 
pendence ; and, though he does not care to own it, always 
does honour to his majesty's birth day, by inviting a few 
cavaliers, like himself, to dinner; and gracing his 
table with more than ordinary festivity. If by chance 
the revolution is mentioned before him, my cousin shakes 
his head ; and you may see, if you take good note, a lurk- 
ing smile of contempt in the corner of his eye, which 
marks a decided disapprobation of the sound. lie once, 
in the fullness of his heart, observed to me that green 
peas were a month later than they were undey the old 
government. But the most eccentric manifestation of loy- 
alty he ever gave was making a voyage to Halifax for no 
other reason under heaven but to hear his majesty prayed 
for in church, as he used to be here formerly. This he 
never could be brought fairly to acknowledge, but it is 
a certain fact I assure you. — It is not a little singular 
that a person, so much given to long story-telling as my 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 137 

cousin, should take a likincr to another of the same char- 
acter; but so it is with the old gentleman — his prime fa- 
vourite and companion is Will Wizard, who is almost a 
member of the family, and will sit before the fire, with 
his feet on the massy handirons, and smoke, his cigar, and 
screw his phiz, and spin away tremendous long stories 
of his travels, for a whole evening, to the great delight 
of the old gentleman and lady, and especially of the 
young ladies, who, like Desdemona, do " seriously in- 
cline," and listen to him with innumerable " O dears," 
"is it possibles," "good graciouses," and look upon him 
as a second Sinbad the sailor. 

The Miss Cocklofts, whose pardon I crave for not 
having particuarly introduced them before, are a pair of 
delectable damsels; who having purloined and locked 
up the family-bible, pass for just what age they please to 
plead guilty to. Barbara, the eldest has long since re- 
signed the character of a belle, and adopted that staid, 
sober, demure, snuff-taking air, becoming her years and 
discretion. She is a good-natured soul, whom I never 
saw in a passion but once ; and that was occasioned by 
seeing an old favourite beau of hers kiss the hand of a 
pretty blooming girl ; and, in truth she only got angry 
because, as she very properly said, it would spoil the 
child. Her sister Margery, or Maggie, as she is fami- 
liarly termed, seemed disposed to maintain her post as a 
belle, until a few months since ; when accidentally hear- 
ing a gentleman observe that she broke very fast, she 
suddenly left off going to the assembly, took a cat into 
high favour, and began to rail at the forward pertness of 
young misses. From that moment I set her down for 
an old maid; and so she is, "by the hand of my body." 
The young ladies are still visited by some half dozen of 
veteran beaux, who grew and fk)urished in the haut ton, 
when the Miss Cocklofts were quite children, but have 
been brushed rather rudely by the hand of time, who, 
to say the truth, can do almost any thing but make peo- 
ple young. They are, notwithstanding, still warm can- 
didates for female favour ; look venerably tender, and re- 
peat over and over the same honeyed speeches and su- 
gared sentiments to the little belles that they poured so 
Erofuseljr into the ears of their mothers, I beg leave 
ere to give notice, that by this sketch I mean no reflec- 
tion on old bachelors ; on the contrary, I hold, that next 
to a fine lady, the ne plus ultra, an old bachelor is the 

12* 



138 BEAUTFES OF 

most charming being upon earth ; inasmuch as by living 
in "single blessedness," he of course does just as he 
pleases ; and if he has any genius must acquire a plenti- 
ful stock of whims, and oddities, and whalebone habits: 
without which 1 esteem a man to be mere beef without 
mustard, good for nothing at all, but to run on errands 
for ladies, take boxes at the theatre, and act the part of 
a screen at tea-parties, or a walking stick in the streets. 
I merely speak of those old boys who infest public walks, 
pounce upon the ladies from every corner of the street, 
and worry and frisk and amble, and caper before, behind, 
and round about the fashionable belles, like old ponies 
in a pasture, striving to supply the absence of youthful 
whim and hilarity, by grimaces and grins, and artificial 
vivacity. I have sometimes seen one of these "reverend 
youths" endeavouring to elevate his wintry passions into 
something like love, by basking in the sunshine of beau- 
ty ; and it did remind me of an old moth attempting to 
fly through a pane of glass towards a light without ever 
approaching near enough to warm itself, or scorch its 
wings. 

Never I firmly believe, did there exist a family that 
went more by tangents than the Cocklofts. — Every thing 
is governed by whim ; and if one member starts a new 
freak, away all the rest follow like vdld geese in a string. 
As the family, the servants, the horses, cats, and dogs, 
have all grown old together, they have accommodated 
themselves to each other's habits completely ; and though 
every body of them is full of odd points, angles, rhom- 
boids, and ins and outs, yet somehow or other, they harmo- 
nize together like so many straight lines ; and it is truly 
a grateful and refreshing sight to see them agree so well. 
Should one, however, get out of tune, it is like a cracked 
fiddle, the whole concert is ajar ; you perceive a cloud over 
every brow in the house, and even the old chairs seem to 
creak affettuoso. If my cousin, as he is rather apt to do, 
betray any symptons of vexation or uneasiness no matter 
about what, he is worried to death with inquiries, which 
answer no other end but to demonstrate the good vfill of 
the inquirer, and put him in a passion; for every body 
knows how pi-ovoking it is to be cut short in a fit of the 
blues, by an impertinent question about "what is the 
matter?" when a man can't tell himself I remember a 
few months ago the old gentleman came home in quite 
a squall ; kicked poor Caesar, the mastiff, out of his way, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 139 

as he came through the hall ; threw his hat on the table 
with most violent emphasis, and pulling out his box, 
took three huge pinches of snuff, and threw a fourth 
into the cat's eyes as he sat purring his astonishment by 
the fire -side. This was enough to set the body politic 
going; Mrs. Cockloft began "my dearing" it as fast as 
tongue could move ; the young ladies took each a stand 
at an elbow of his chair: Jeremy marshalled in rear; 
the servants came tumbling in ; the mastiff' put up an in- 
quiring nose; and even grimalkin, after he had cleansed 
his whiskers and finished sneezing, discovered indubitable 
signs of sympathy. After the most affectionate inquiries 
on all sides, it turned out that my cousin, in crossing, 
the street, had got his silk stockings bespattered with 
mud by a coach which it seems belonged to a dashing 
gentleman who had formerly supplied the family with 
not rolls and muffins ! Mrs. Cockloft thereupon turned 
up her eyes, and the young ladies their noses ; and it 
would have edified a whole congregation to hear the 
conversation which took place concerning the insolence 
of upstarts, and the vulgarity of would be gentlemen and 
ladies, who strive to emerge from low life by dashing 
about in carriages to pay a visit two doors off, giving par- 
ties to people who laugh at them, and cutting all their old 
friends. 



CONVERSION OF THE AMERICANS. 

But the most important branch of civiUzation, and which 
has most strenuously been extolled, by the zealous and 
pious fathers of the Romish Church, is the introduction 
of the Christian faith. It was truly a sight that might 
well inspire horror, to behold these savages, stumbling 
among the dark mountains of paganism, and guilty of 
the most horrible ignorance of religion. It is true, they 
neither stole nor defrauded; they were sober, frugal, 
continent, and faithful to their word; but though they 
acted right habitually, it was all in vain, unless they 
acted so from precept The new comers therefore used 
every method to induce them to embrace and practise 
the true religion — except indeed that of setting them the 
example. 

But notwithstanding all these complicated labours for 



140 BEAUTIES OP 

their good, such was the unparalleled obstinacy of these 
stubborn wretches, that they ungratefully refused to ac- 
knowledge the strangers as their benefactors, and persist- 
ed in disbelieving the doctrines they endeavoured to in- 
culcate ; most insolently alleging that from their conduct, 
the advocates of Christianity did not seem to believe in 
it themselves. Was not this too much for human pa- 
tience 7 — would not one suppose, that the benign visitants 
from Europe, provoked at their incredulity, and discou- 
raged, by their stiff-necked obstinacy, would forever have 
abandoned their shores, and consigned them to their ori- 
ginal ignorance and misery? But no — so zealous were 
they to effect the temporal comfort and eternal salvation 
of these pagan infidels, that they even proceeded from 
the milder means of persuasion to the more painful and 
troublesome one of persecution — let loose among them 
whole troops of fiery monks and furious blood-hounds — pu- 
rified them by fire and sword, by stake and faggot ; in con- 
sequence of which indefatigable measures the cause of 
Christian love and charity was so rapidly advanced that, 
in a very few years not one fifth of the number of unbe- 
lievers existed in South America, that were found there 
at the time of its discovery. 

What stronger right need the European settlers ad- 
vance to the country than this 7 Have not whole nations 
of uninformed savages been made acquainted with a 
thousand imperious wants and indispensable comforts, of 
which they were before wholly ignorant 7 Have they 
not been literally hunted and smoked out of the dens and 
lurking places of ignorance and infidelity, and absolutely 
scourged into the right path 7 Have not the temporal 
things, the vain baubles and filthy lucre of this world, 
which were too apt to engage their worldly and selfish 
thoughts, been benevolently taken from them ; and have 
they not instead thereof, been taught to set their affec- 
tions on things above 7 And, finally, to use the words of 
a Reverend Spanish Father, in a letter to his superior in 
Spain — " Can any one have the presumption to say, that 
these savage Pagans have yielded any thing more than an 
inconsiderable recompense to their benefactors, in surren- 
dering to them a little pitiful tract of this dirty sublunary 
planet, in exchange for a glorious inheritance in the king- 
dom of Heaven !" 

Here, then, are three complete and undeniable sources 
jof right .established, any one of which was more than am- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 141 

pie to establish a property in the newly discovered regions 
of America, Now, so it has happened in certain parts 
of this delightful quarter of the globe that the right of 
discovery has been so strenuously asserted, the influence 
of cultivation so industriously extended, and the progress 
of salvation and civilization so zealously prosecuted ; that, 
what with their attendant wars, persecutions, oppressions, 
diseases, and other partial evils that often hang on the 
skirts of great benefits, the savage aborigines have, sonic 
how or another, been utterly annihilated ; and this all at 
once brings me to a fourth right, which is worth all the 
others put together ; for the original claimants to the soil 
being all dead and buried, and no one remaining to in- 
herit or dispute the soil, the Spaniards as the next imme- 
diate occupants, entered upon the possession as clearly as 
the hangman succeeds to the clothes of the malefactor — 
and as they have Blackstone,* and all the learned expoun- 
ders of the law on their side, they may set all actions ot 
ejectment at defiance — and this last right may be entitled 
the RIGHT BY EXTERMINATION, 01 in Other words the 

RIGHT BY GUNPOWDER. 

But, lest any scruples of conscience should remain on 
this head, and to settle the question of right for ever, his 
holiness Pope Alexander VI. issued a mighty bull, by 
which he generously granted the newly discovered quar- 
ter of the globe to the Spaniards and Portuguese ; who, 
thus having law and gospel on their side, and being in- 
flamed with great spiritual zeal, showed the Pagan sava- 
ges neither favour nor aftection, but prosecuted the work 
of discovery, colonization, civilization, and extermination, 
with ten times more fury than ever. 

Thus were the European worthies who first discovered 
America clearly entitled to the soil ; and not only entitled 
to the soil, but likewise to the eternal thanks of these 
infidel savages, for having come so far, endured so many 
perils by sea and land, and taken such unwearied pains, 
for no other purpose but to improve their forlorn, uncivi- 
lized, and heathenish condition — for having made them 
acquainted with the comforts of life — for having intro- 
duced amona them the light of religion ; and finally, for 
having hurried them out of the world, to enjoy its re- 
ward ! 



*BI. Com. b. ii. c. 1. 



142 BEAUTIES OF 



TOM STRADDLE. 



Will's great crony for some time was Tom Straddle, ^ 
to whom he really took a great liking. Straddle had ' 
just arrived in an importation of hardware, fresh from 
the city of Birmingham, or rather as the most learned 
English would call it JBrummagen, so famous for its ^ 
manufactories of gimlets, pen-knives, and pepper-boxes, \ 
and where they make buttons and beaux enough to in- ^ 
tmdate our whole country. He was a young man of ^ 
considerable standing in the manufactory at Birmingham; ^ 
sometimes had the honour to hand his master's daughter ^ 
into a tim-whisky, was the oracle of the tavern he fre- 5 
quented on Sundays, and could beat all his associates, if ^ 
you would take his word for it, in boxing, beer-drink- * 
ing, jumping over chairs, and imitating cats in a gutter, ' 
and opera-singers. Straddle was, moreover, a member \ 
of a catch-club, and was a great hand at rincjincr bob-ma- ' 
jors ; he v?as, of course ; a complete connoisseur in music, 
and entitled to assume that character at all performances 
in the art. He was likewise a member of a spouting- 
club ; had seen a company of strolling actors perform in 
a barn, and had even, like Abel Drugger, "enacted" the 
part of Major Sturgeon with considerable applause ; he 
was consequently a profound critic, and fully authorized 
to turn up his nose at any American performances. He 
had twice partaken of annual dinners, given to the head 
manufacturers at Birmingham, where he had the good 
fortune to get a taste of turtle and turbot, and a smack 
of Champaign and Burgundy ; and he had heard a vast 
deal of the roast beef of Old England ; — he was there- 
fore epicure sufficient to d — n every dish and every glass 
of wine he tasted in America, though at the same time 
he was as voracious an animal as ever crossed the Atlan- 
tic. Straddle had been splashed half a dozen times by 
the carriages of nobility, and had once the superlative 
felicity of being kicked out of doors by the footman of a 
noble duke ; he could, therefore, talk of nobility, and de- 
spise the untitled plebians of America. In short. Strad- 
dle was one of those dapper, bustling, florid, round, self- 
important "g-emmen," who bounce upon us half-beau, 
half-button-maker ; undertake to give us the true polish 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 143 

of the bon-ton and endeavour to inspire us with a pro- 
per and dignified contempt of our native country. 

Straddle was quite in raptures when his employers 
determined to send him to America as an agent. He 
considered himself as going among a nation of barbarians, 
where he could be received as a prodigy: he anticipated, 
with a proud satisfaction, the bustle and confusion his 
arrival would occasion ; the crowd that would throng to 
gaze at him as he passed through the streets ; and had 
little doubt but that he should excite as much curiosity 
as an Indian chief or a Turk in the streets of Birming- 
ham. He had heard of the beauty of our women, and 
chuckled at the thought of how completely he should 
eclipse their unpolished beaux, and the number of des- 
pairing lovers that would mourn the hour of his arrival. 
I am even informed by Will Wizard, that he put good 
store of beads, spike-nails, and looking-glasses in his 
trunk, to win the affections of the fiiir ones as they pad- 
dled about in their bark canoes. The reason Will gave 
for this error of Straddle's respecting our ladies was, that 
he had read in Guthrie's Geography that the aborigines 
of America were all savages ; and not exactly under- 
standing the word aborigines, he applied to one of his 
fellow-apprentices, who assured him that it was the Latin 
word for inhabitants. 

Wizard used to tell another anecdote of Straddle, 
which always put him in a passion : — Will swore that 
the captain of the ship told him, that when Straddle 
heard they were off the banks of Newfoundland, he in- 
sisted upon going on shore there to gather some good cab- 
bages, of which he was excessively fond. Straddle, 
however, denied all this, and declared it to be a mischie- 
vous quiz of Will Wizard, who indeed often made him- 
self merry at his expense. However this may be, cer- 
tain it is he kept his tailor and shoemaker constantly em- 
ployed for a month before his departure ; equipped him- 
self with a smart crooked stick about eighteen inches long, 
a pair of breeches of most unheard-of length, a little short 
pair of Hoby's white -topt boots, that seemed to stand 
on tiptoe to reach his breeches, and his hat had the true 
transatlantic declination towards his right ear. The fact 
was — nor did he make any secret of it — -he was determined 
to astonish the natives a few! 

Straddle was not a little disappointed on his arrival, 
to find the Americans were rather more civilized than 



144 BEAUTIES OP 

he had imagined : — he was suifered to walk to his lodg- 
ings unmolested by a crowd, and even unnoticed by a 
single individual; — no love-letters came pouring in up- 
on him; — no rivals lay in wait to assassinate him; — his 
very dress excited no attention, for there were many fools 
dressed equally ridiculous with himself. This was mor- 
tifying indeed to an aspiring youth, who had come out 
with the idea of astonishing and captivating. He was 
equally unfortunate in his pretentions to the character 
of critic, connoisseur and boxer ; he condemned our whole 
dramatic corps, and every thing appertaining to the 
theatre ; but his critical abilities were ridiculed ; — he 
found fault with old Cockloft's dinner, not even sparing 
his wine, and was never invited to the house afterwards ; — 
he scoured the streets at night and was cudgelled by a 
sturdy watchman ; — he hoaxed an honest mechanic, and 
was soundly kicked. Thus disappointed in all his at- 
tempts at notoriety. Straddle hit on the expedient which 
was resorted to by the Giblets ; — he determined to take 
the town by storm. He accordingly bought horses and 
equipages, and forthwith made a furious dash at style in 
a gig and tandem. 

As Straddle's finances were but limited, it may easily 
be supposed that his fashionable career infringed a little 
upon his consignments, which was indeed the case — for 
to use a true cockney phrase, Brummagen suffered. But 
this was a circumstance that made little impression upon 
Straddle, who was now a lad of spirit — and lads of spi- 
rit alway despise the sordid cares of keeping another man's 
money. Suspecting this circumstance, I never could wit- 
ness any of his exhibitions of style without some whim- 
sical association of ideas. Did he give an entertainment 
to a host of guzzling friends, I immediately fancied them 
gormandizing heartily at the expense of poor Birmingham, 
and swallowing a consignment of hand-saws and razors. 
Did I behold him dashing through Broadway in his gig, 
I saw him, "in my mind's eye," driving tandem on a 
nest of tea-boards ; nor could I ever contemplate his 
cockney exhibitions of horsemanship, but my mischie- 
vous imagination would picture him spurring a cask of 
hardware, like rosy Bachus bestriding a beer-barrel, or 
the little gentleman who be-straddles the world in the 
front of Hutcliing's Almanack. 

Straddle was equally successful with the Giblets, as 
may well be supposed; for though pedestrian merit may 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 145 

Stnve m vain to become fashionable in Gotham, yet a 
candidate in an equipage is always recognized, and likd 
Pxhilip's ass, laden with gold will gain admittance every 
where. Mounted in his curricle or his gig, the candi^ 
date is like a statue elevated on a high pedestal ; his merits 
are discernable ftom afar, and strike the dullest optics* 
Oh! Gotham, Gotham! most enlightened of cities! how 
does ray heart swell with delight when I behold yout 
sapient inhabitants lavishing their attention with such 
wonderful discernment ! 

Thus Straddle became quite a man of ton, and was 
caressed, and courted, and invited to dinners and balls* 
Whatever was absurd or ridiculous in him before was 
now declared to be the style. He criticized our theatre, 
and was listened to with reverence. He pronounced out 
musical entertainments barbarous; and the judgment of 
Apollo himself would not have been more decisive. He 
abused our dinners ; and the god of eating, if there be 
any such deity seemed to speak through his organs. He 
became at once a man of taste — for he put his maledic- 
tion on every thing; and his arguments were conclu- 
sive — for he supported every assertion with a bet. He 
was likewise pronounced by the learned in the fashion- 
able world a young man of great research and deep ob- 
servation, — for he had sent home, as natural curiosities, 
an ear of Indian corn, a pair of moccasons, a belt of 
wampum, and a four-leafed clover. He had taken great 
pains to enrich this curious collection with an Indian, and 
a cataract, but without success. In fine, the people talked 
of Straddle and his equipage, and Straddle talked of his 
horses, until it was impossible for the most critical obser- 
ver to pronounce whether Straddle or his horses were 
most admired, or whether Straddle admired himself or his 
horses most* 

Straddle was now in the zenith of his glofy* He 
swaggered about parlours and drawing-rooms with the 
same unceremonious confidence he used to display in the 
taverns at Birmingham. He accosted a lady as he would 
a bar-maid; and this was pronounced a certain proof 
that he had been used to better company in Birminghami 
He became the great man of all the taverns between 
New-York and Harlem ; and no one stood a chance -of 
being accommodated until Straddle and his horses were 
perfectly satisfied. He d — d the landlords and waiters, 
with the best air in the world, and accosted them with 

18 



146 BEAUTIES OP 

gentlemanly tamiliarity. He staggered from the dinner- 
table to the play, entered the box like a tempest, stayed 
long enough to be bored to death, and to bore all those 
who had the misfortune to be near him. From thence 
he dashed off to a ball, time enough to flounder through. 
a cotilion, tear half a dozen gowns, commit a number of 
other depredations, and make the whole company sensi- 
ble of his infinite condescension in coming amongst them. 
The people of Gotham thought hun a prodigious fine fel- 
low; the young bucks cuUivated his acquaintance with 
the most persevering assiduity, and his retainers were 
sometimes complimented with a seat in Ids curricle, or a 
ride on one of his fine horses. The beUes were dehghted 
with the attentions of such a fashionable gentleman, and 
struck with astonishment at his learned distinctions be- 
tween wrought scissors and those of cast steel : together 
with his profound dissertations on buttons and horse-flesh. 
The rich merchants courted his acquaintance because he 
was an Englishman, and their wives treated him* with 
great deference because he had come from beyond seas, 
I cannot help here observing that your saltwater is a 
marvellous great sharpener of men's wits, and I intend to 
recommend it to some of my acquaintance in a parti- 
cular essay. 

Straddle continued his briUiant career for only a short 
time. His prosperous journey over the turnpike of fa- 
shion was ckecked by some of those stumbling-blocks in 
the way of aspiring youth called creditors — or duns : — a 
race of people who as a celebrated writer observes, "are 
hated by the gods and men." Consignments slackened, 
whispers of distant suspicion floated in the dark, and 
those pests of society the tailors and shoemakers, rose in 
rebellion against Straddle, In vain were all his remon- 
strances; in vain did he prove to them, that though he 
had given them no money, yet he had given them more 
custom, and as many promises as any young man in the 
city. They were inflexible; and the signal of danger 
being given, a host of other prosecutors pounced upon his 
back. Straddle saw there was but one way for it: he 
determined to do the thing genteely, to go to smash like 
a hero, and dashed into the hmits in high style ; being 
the fifteenth gentleman I have known to drive tandem 
to the — ne plus ultra- — the d — I. 

Unfortunate Straddle! may thy fate be a warning to 
all young gentlemen who come from Birmingham to 



WASHINGTON IRVING- 147 

astonish the natives! — I should never have taken the 
trouble to delineate his character, had he not been a gen- 
uine Cockney, and worthy to be the representative of his 
numerous tribe. Perhaps my simple countrymen may 
hereafter be able to distinguish between the real En- 
glish gentlemen and individuals of the cast I have here- 
tofore spoken of, as mere mongrels, springing at one 
bound from contemptible obscurity at home to daylight 
and splendour in this good-natured land. The true-born 
ajid true-bred English gentleman is a character I hold in 
grvat respect; and I love to look back to the period when 
our forefathers flourished in the same generous soil, and 
hailed each other as brothei-s. But the Cockney! — 
when I contemplate him as springing too from the same 
source, I feel ashamed of the relationship, and am tempt- 
ed to deny my origin. — In the character of Straddle is 
traced the complete outline of a true Cockney of English 
growth, and a descendant of that individual facetious 
character mentioned by Shakespeare, " who in pure 
kindness to his horse, buttered his hay." 



SLEEPY HOLLOW. 

In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent 
the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion 
of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators 
the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently short- 
ened sail, and implored the protection of St. Nicholas 
when they crossed, there lies a small market-town or 
rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but 
which is more generally and properly known by the name 
of Tarry Town. This name was given, we are told, in 
former days, by the good house-wives of the adjacent 
country, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands 
to linger about the village tavern on market days. Be 
that as it may, I do not vouch for the fact, but merely 
advert to it, for the sake of being precise and authentic. 
Not far from this village, perhaps about three miles, there 
is a little valley, or rather lap of land, among high hills, 
which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A 
umall brook glides through it, with just murmur enough 
to lull one to repose; and the occasional wliistle of a quail, 



1 48 BEAUTIES OP 

or tapping of a woodpecker, is almost the only sound that 
ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquility. 

I recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in 
squirrel shooting was in a grove of tall walnut trees that 
shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it 
at noon time, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and 
was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the 
sabbath stillness around, and was prolonged and reverbe- 
rated by the angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a 
retreat, whither I might steal from the world and its 
distractions, and dream quietly away the remnant of a 
troubled life, I know of none more promising than this 
little valley. 

From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar 
character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from 
the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long 
been knovni by the name of Sleepy Hollow, and its 
rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys through- 
out all the neighbouring country, A drowsy, dreamy 
influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the 
very atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched 
by a high German doctor during the early days of the 
settlement ; others, that an old Indian chief, the prophet 
or wizard of his tribe, held his powwows there before 
the country was discovered by Master Hendrick Hudson. 
Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of 
some witching power, that holds a spell over the minds 
of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual 
reverie, They are given to all kinds of marvellous be- 
liefs; are subject to trances and visions; and frequently 
see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. 
The whole neighbourhood abounds with local tales, 
haunted spots, and twilight superstitions ; stars shoot and 
meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other 
part of the country, and the night-mare, with her whole 
nine fold, seems to make it the favourite scene of her gam- 
bols. 

The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this en- 
chanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of 
all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on 
horseback without a head. It is said by some to be 
the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been car- 
ried away by a cannon ball, in some nameless battle dur- 
ing the revolutionary war ; and who is ever and anon 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 149 

seen by the country folk, hurrying along in the gloom of 
night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are 
not confined to the valley, but extend at times to the ad- 
jacent roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church 
that is at no great distance. Indeed, certain of the most 
authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful 
in collecting and collating the floating facts concerning 
this spectre, allege that, the body of the trooper having 
been hurried in the chuch-yard, the ghost rides forth to 
the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head; and that 
the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along 
the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being 
belated, and in a hurry to get back to the church-yard 
before day-break. 

Such is the general purport of this legendary supersti- 
tion, which has furnished materials for many a wild story 
in that region of shadows; and the spectre is known, at 
all the country firesides, by the name of the Headless 
Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. 

It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have 
mentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of 
the valley, but is unconsiously imbibed by every one 
who resides there for a time However wide awake they 
may have been before they entered that sleepy region, 
they are sure, in a httle time, to inhale the witching in- 
fluence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative — to 
dream dreams, and see apparitions. 

I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud ; for 
it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here and 
there, embosomed in the great state of New York, that po- 
pulation, manners, and customs, remain fixed ; while the 
great torrent of migration and improvement, which is 
making such incessant changes in other parts of this rest- 
less country, sweeps by them unobserved. They are like 
those httle nooks of still water which border a rapid 
stream ; where we may see the straw and bubble riding 
quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their mimic har- 
bour, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current. 
Though many years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy 
shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet I question whether I should 
not still find the same trees and the same families vegeta- 
ting in its sheltered bosom. 



fi 



Ichabod Crane. 
In this by -place of nature there abode, in a remote 

13* 



150 BEAUTIES OP 

period of American history, that is to say, some thirty 
years since, a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod 
Crane; who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, "tarried," 
in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose of instructing the chil- 
dren of the vicinity. He was a native of Connecticut: 
a state which supplies the Union with pioneers for the 
mind as well as for the forest, and sends forth yearly its 
legions of frontier woodmen and country schoolmasters. 
The cognomen of Oane was not inapplicable to his per- 
son. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow 
shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile 
out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, 
and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His 
head was small and flat at top, with huge ears, large 
green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked 
like a weathercock, perched upon his spindle neck, to tell 
which way the wind blew. To see him striding along 
the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagg- 
ing and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken 
him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, 
or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield. 

His school-room was a low building of one large room, 
rudely constructed of logs ; the windows partly glazed, 
and partly patched wdth leaves of old copy books. It 
was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe 
twisted in the handle of the door, and stakes set against 
the window shutters; so that though a thief might get 
in with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment 
in getting out; an idea most probably borrowed by the 
architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery of an eel- 
pot. The school-house stood in a rather lonely but plea- 
sant situation, just at the foot of a woody hill, with a 
brook running close by, and a formidable birch tree grow 
ing at one end of it. From hence the low murmur of 
his pupils' voices, conning over their lessons, might be 
heard in a drowsy summer's day, like the hum of a bee- 
hive; interrupted now and then by the authoratative 
voice of the master, in a tone of menace or command; 
or, peradventure, by the appalling sound of the birch, as 
he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of 
knowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious man, 
that ever bore in mind the golden maxim, " Spare the 
rod and spoil the child." — Ichabod Crane's scholars cer- 
tainly were not spoiled. 

I would not have it imagined, however that he was 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 151 

one of those cruel potentates of the school, who joy in the 
smart of their subjects ; on the contrary he administered 
justice with discrimination rather than severity; taking 
the burthen off the backs of the weak, and laying it on 
those of the strong. Your mere puny stripling, that 
winced at the least flourish of the rod, was passed by with 
indulgence ; but the claims of justice were satisfied, by 
inflicting a double portion on some little, tough, wrong- 
headed, broad-skirted Dutch urchin, who skulked and 
swelled, and grew dogged, and sullen beneath the birch. 
All this he called "doing his duty by their parents;" 
and he never inflicted a chastisement, without following 
it by the assurance, so consolatory to the smarting urchin 
that "he would remember it and thank him for it the 
longest day he had to live." 

When school hours were over, he was even the com- 
panion and playmate of the larger boys ; and on holyday 
afternoons would convoy some of the smaller ones home, 
who happened to have pretty sisters, or good housewives 
for mothers, noted for the comforts of the cupboard. In- 
deed it behoved him to keep on good terms with his pu- 
pils. The revenue arising from his school was small, 
and would have been scarcely sufficient to furnish 
him with daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, and 
though lank, had the dilating powers of an Anaconda; 
but to help out his maintainance, he was, according to 
country custom in those parts, boarded and lodged at the 
houses of the farmers, whose children he instructed. 
With these he Uved successively a week at a time ; thus 
going the rounds of the neighbourhood, vfith all his 
worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief. 

That all this might not be too onerous on .the purses 
of his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs 
of schooling a grevious burden, and schoolmasters, as mere 
drones, he had various ways of rendering himself both use- 
ful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers occasionally in 
the hghter labours of their farms; helped to make hay; 
mended the fences; took the horses to water; drove the 
cows from pasture; and cut wood for the wdnter fire. 
He laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity and absolute 
sway with which he lorded it in his little empire, the 
school, and become wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. 
He found favour in the eyes of the mothers, by petting 
the children, particularly the youngest; and like the 
lion bold 3 which whilome so magnanimously the Iamb 



152 BEAUTIES OF 

did hold, he would sit with a child on one knee and 
rock a cradle for whole hours together. 

In addition to his other vocations, he was the sinjrins- 
master of the neighbourhood, and picked up many bright 
shillings by instructing the young folks in psalmody. 
It was a matter of no little vanity to him on Sundays, 
to take his station in front of the church gallery, with a 
band of cboisen singers ; where, in his own mind, he com- 
pletely carried away the palm from the parson. Certain 
it is, his voice resounded far above all the rest of the 
congregation; and there are peculiar quivers still to be 
heard in that church, and may still be heard half-a-mile 
off, quite to the opposite side of the mill-pond, on a still 
Sunday morning, which are said to be legitimately des- 
cended from the nose of Ichabod Crane. Thus, by divers 
little makeshifts, in that ingenious way which is com- 
monly denominated "by hook and by crook," the worthy 
pedagogue, got on tolerably enough, and was thought, by 
all wiio understood nothing of the labour of headwork, to 
have a wonderful easy life of it. 

Superstition. ~ 

BcT all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and ap- 

f)aritions that succeeded. The neighbourhood is rich in 
egendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and super- 
stitions thrive best in these sheltered long settled retreats; 
but are trampled under foot by the shifting throng that 
forms the population of most of our country places. Be- 
sides there is no encouragement for ghosts in most of our 
villages, for they have scarcely had time to finish their 
first nap, and turn themselves in their graves, before their 
surviving friends have travelled away from the neighbour- 
hood ; so that when they turn out at night to walk their 
rounds, they have no acquaintance left to call upon. This 
is perhaps the reason why we so seldom hear of ghosts ex- 
cept in our long established Dutch communities. 

The immediate cause, hov/ever, of the prevalence of 
supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing 
to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a conta- 
gion in the very air that blew from that haunted region ; 
It breathed forth an atmosphere of dreams and fancies 
infecting all the land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow peo- 
ple were present at Van Tassal's, and, as usual, were do- 
ling out their wild and wonderful legends, Many dismal 



WASHINGTON IRVING 153 

tales were told about funeral trains, and mourning cries 
and wailings heard and seen about the great tree where the 
unfortunate Major Andre was taken, and which stood in 
the neighbourhood. Some mention was made also of the 
woman in white, that haunted the dark glen at Raven 
Rock, and was often heard to shriek on winter nights be- 
fore a storm, having perished there in the snow. The 
chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the fa- 
vourite spectre of Sleepy Hollow, the headless horseman, 
who had been heard several times of late, patrolling the 
country ; and, it was said, tethered his horse nightly 
among the graves in the churchyard. 

The sequestered situation of this church seems always 
to have made it a favoured haunt of troubled spirits. It 
stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust trees and lofty 
elms, from among which, its decent whitewashed walls 
shine modestly forth, like Christian purity, beaming 
through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope de- 
scends from it to a silver sheet of water, bordered by 
high trees, between which, peeps may be caught at the 
blue hills of the Hudson. To look .upon its grass grown 
yard, were the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one 
would think that there at least the dead might rest in 
peace. On one side of the church extends a wide woody 
dell, along which raves a large brook among broken rocks 
and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black part of 
the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown 
a wooden bridge ; the road that led to it, and the bridge 
itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which 
cast a gloom about it, even in the day-time ; but occa- 
sioned a fearful darkness at night. Such was one of the 
favourite haunts of the headless horseman, and the place 
where he was most frequently encountered. The tale 
Was told of old Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in 
ghosts, how he met the horseman returning from his fo- 
ray into Sleepy Hollow, and was obliged to get up behind 
him ; how they galloped over bush and brake, over hill 
and swamp, until they reached the bridge; when the 
horseman suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw old 
Brouwer into the brook, and sprang away over the tree 
tops with a clap of thunder. 



G 2 



154 BEAUTIES OF 



THE BROKEN HEART. 

It is a common practice with those who have outhved 
the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been brought 
up in the gay heartlessness of dissipated life, to laugh at 
all love stories, and to treat the tales of romantic passion 
as mere fictions of novelists and poets. My observations 
on human nature have induced me to think otherwise. 
They have convinced me, that however the surface of the 
character may be chilled and frozen by the cares of the 
world, or cultivated into mere smiles by the arts of socie- 
ty, still there are dormant fires lurking in the depths of 
the coldest bosom, which, when once enkindled, become 
impetuous, and are sometimes desolating in their efifects. 
Indeed, I am a true believer in the blind deity, and go to 
the full extent of his doctrines. Shall I confess it ! — I 
believe in broken hearts, and the possibility of dying of 
disappointed love. I do not, however, consider it a ma- 
lady often fatal to my own sex ; but I firmly believe 
that it withers down many a lovely woman into an early 
grave. 

Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His na- 
ture leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of the 
world. Love is but the embellishment of his early life, 
or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He seeks for 
fame, for fortune, for space in the world's thought, and do- 
minion over his fellow men. But a woman's whole life 
is a history of the aftections. The heart is her world : it is 
there her ambition strives for empires ; it is there her 
avarice seeks for hidden treasures. She sends forth her 
sympathies on adventure ; she embarks her whole soul in 
the traffic of affection ; and if shipwrecked, her case is hope- 
less — for it is a bankruptcy of the heart. 

To a man the disappointment of love may occasion some 
bitter pangs : it wounds some feelings of tenderness — it 
blasts some prospects of felicity ; but he is an active being 
— he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of varied oc- 
cupation, or may plunge into the tide of pleasure ; or, if the 
scene of disappointment be too full of painful associations, 
he can shift his abode at will, and taking as it were the 
wings of the morning, can "fly to the uttermost parts of 
the earth, and be at rest." 

But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 155 

meditative life. She is more the companion of her own 
thoughts and feeUngs; and if they are turned to ministers 
of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation? Her lot 
is to be woed and won ; and if unhappy in her love, her 
heart is like some fortress that has been captured, and 
sacked, and abandoned and left desolate. 

How many bright eyes grow dim — how many soft 
cheeks grow pale — how many lovely forms fade away into 
the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted their 
loveliness ! As the dove will clasp its wings to its side, 
and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on 
its vitals, so it is the nature of woman to hide from the 
world the pangs of wounded affection. The love of a 
delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when 
fortxmate, she scarcely breathes it to herself; but when 
otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her bosom, and 
there lets it cower and brood among the ruins of her peace. 
With her the desire of the heart has failed. The great 
charm of existence is at an end. She neglects all the 
cheerful excercises which gladden the spirits, quicken the 
pulses, and send the tide of life in healthful currents 
through the veins. Her rest is broken — the sweet re- 
freshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy dreams — 
" dry sorrow drinks her blood," until her enfeebled frame 
sinks under the slightest external injury. Look for her, 
after a little while, and you will find friendship weeping 
over her untimely grave, and wondering that one who 
but lately glowed with all the radiance of health and 
beauty, should so speedily be brought down to "dark- 
ness and the worm.'' You will be told of some wintry 
chill, some casual indisposition, that laid her low ; — but 
no one knows of the mental malady that previously sap- 
ped her strength, and made her so easy a prey to the 
spoiler. 

She is like some tender tree, the pride and beauty of 
the grove; graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, but 
with the worm preying at its heart. We find it sudden- 
ly withering, when it should be most fresh and luxuri- 
ant. We see it drooping its branches to the earth, and 
shedding leaf by leaf; until, wasted and perished away, 
it falls even in the stillness of the forest ; and, as we muse 
over the beautiful ruin, we strive in vain to recollect the 
blast or thunderbolt that could have smitten it with de- 
cay. 

I have seen many instances of women running to weiste 



156 BEAUTIES OP 

and self-neglect, and disappearing gradually from the 
earth, almost as if they had been exhaled to heaven ; and 
have repeatedly fancied that I could trace their death 
through the various declensions of consumption, cold, de- 
bility, languor, melancholy, until I reached the first symp- 
ton of diappointed love. But an instance of the kind 
was lately told to me ; the circumstances are well known 
in the country where they happened, and I shall but give 
them in the manner as they were related. 

Every one must recollect the tragical story of young 
E — -^, the Irish patriot ; it was too touching to be soon 
forgotton. During the troubles in Ireland he was tried, 
condemned, and executed on a charge of treason. His 
fate made a deep impression on public sympathy. He 
was so young — so intelligent — so generous — so brave — so 
every thing that we are apt to like m a young man. His 
conduct under trial, too, was so lofty and intrepid. The 
noble indignation with which he repelled the charge of 
treason against his country — the eloquent vindication of 
his name — and he pathetic appeal to posterity, in the 
hopeless hour of condemnation — all these entered deeply 
into every generous bosom, and even his enemies lamented 
the stern policy that dictated his execution.* 



*This ill-starred youth was the son of Dr. Emmet, a gentleman 
of fortune and family, whose mind was deeply imbued with republi- 
can principles, which he was but too successful in impressing upon 
his children. His eldest son, Thomas Addis Emmil, being a suspected 
character, in 1798 he accepted the terms offered by Government, 
and retired to France, from thence he proceeded to New-Yorlc, 
where he held the first place at the bar of that city, highly respected 
as a lawyer and esteemed as a man. Robert, the person alluded to 
by our author, either possessing more enthusiasm or less prudence 
than his brother, became involved in a series of insurrections, which 
at last attracted the attention of Government, and the unfortunate 
man was arrested while he lingered in his flight, in expectation of 
a last meeting with the lady to whom he was engaged. This amiable 
female, whose hard fate is described with so much pathos by our 
author, was the daughter of the ct^lebrated John Philpot Curran. 
The following address was delivered by Emnriet on his trial. 

' I am asked if I have any thing to say why sentence of death 
should not be proiMiunced upon me. Was I to suffer only death, af- 
ter being adjudged guilty, I should bow in silence; but a man in my 
situation has not only to combat with the difficulties of fortune, but 
also the difficulties of prejudice : the sentence of the law which de- 
livers over his body to the executioner consigns his character to ob- 
loquy. The man dies, but his memory lives ; and that mine may 
not forfeit all claim to the respect of my countrymen, I use this occa- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 157 

But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be 
impossible to describe. In happier days and fairer for- 
tunes, he had won the affections of a beautiful and inter- 
esting girl, the daughter of a late celebrated Irish barrister. 
She loved him with the disinterested fervour of a wo- 
man's first and early love. When every worldly maxim 
arrayed itself against him ; when blasted in fortune, and 
disgrace, and danger darkened around his name, she lo- 
ved him the more ardently for his very sulierings. If, 



sion to vindicate myself from some of the charges advanced against 
me. 

' I am charged with being an emissary of France— 'tis faise ! I am 
no emissary — J did not wish to deliver up my country to a foreign 
power, and least of all, to France. No ! never did 1 entertain the 
idea of establishing French power in Ireland — God forbid. On the 
contrary, it is evident from the introductory paragraph of the address 
of the Provissional Government, that every hazard attending an inde- 
pendent effort was deemed preferable to the more fatal risk of intro- 
ducing a French army into tiie country. Small would be our claims 
to patriotism and to sense, and palpable our affectation of the love 
of liberty, if we were to encourage the profanaticin of our shores by 
a people who are slaves themselves, and the unprincipled and aban- 
doned instiumenls of imposing slavery on others. 

'If such an inference be drawn from any part of the proclamation 
of the Provissional Government, it calumniates their views, and is 
not warranted by the fact How could they speak of freedom to 
their countrymen 1 How assume such an exalted motive, and medi- 
tate the introduction or a power which has been the enemy of tree- 
dom in every part of the globe? Reviewing the conduct of France 
to other countries, could we expect better towards us? No! Let 
not, then, any man attaint my memory by believing that I could 
have hoped lor freedom through the aid of France, and betrayed 
the sacred cause of liberty by committing it to the power of her most 
determined foe: had I done so, I hud not deserved to live ; and dy- 
ing with such a weight upon my character, 1 had merited the ho- 
nest execrations of that country which gave me birth, and to which 
I would have given freedom. 

'Had ] been in Switzerland, I would have fought against the 
French— in the dignity of freedom, I would have expired on the 
threiihold of that country, and they should have entered it only by 
passing over my lifeless corpse. Is it then to be supposed that"[ 
would be slow to make the same sacrifice to my native land 1 Am 
I, who lived but to be of service to my country, and who would 
subject myself to the bondage of the grave to give her independence 
— am I to be loaded with the foul and grievous calumny of being an 
emissary of France 1 

' My lords, it may be part of the system of angry justice, to bow a 
man's mind, by humiliation to nieet the ignominy of the scaffold ; 
but worse to me than the scaffold's shame, or the scaffold's terrors, 
would be the imputation of having been the agent of French despot- 
ism and ambition; and while I have breath, I will call upon my 

U 



158 BEAUTIES OP 

then, his fate could awaken the sympathy even of his 
foes, what must have been the agony of her, whose whole 
soul was occupied by his image ! Let those tell who have 
had the portals of the tomb suddenly closed between them 
and the being they most loved on earth — who have sat 
at its threshold, as one shut out in a cold and lonely 
world, from whence all that was most lovely and loving 
had departed. 
But then the horrors of such a grave I so frightful, so 



I 

countrymen not to believe me guilty of so foul a crime against their 
liberties and their happiness. 

• Though you, my lord, sit there a judgfe, and I stand here a cul- 
prit, yet you are but a man and I am another. I have a right there- 
fore to vindicate my character and moiivex from the aspersions of 
calumny ; and, as a man, to whom fame is dearer than life, I will 
make the last use of that life in rescuing my name and my memory 
from the afflicting imputation of having been an emissary of France, 
or seel\ing her interference in the internal regulation of our affairs. 

'Did I live to see a French army approach this country, I would 
meet it on the shore, with a torch in one hand and a sword in th« 
other ; I would receive them with all the destruction of war ! I 
would animate my countrymen to immolate them in their very 
boats; and before our native soil should be polluted by a foreign 
foe, if ihey succeeded in landing, I would burn every blade of grass 
before them, raze every house, contend to the last for every inch of 
ground ; and the last spot on which the hope of freedom should de- 
desert me, that spot I would make my grave ! What I cannot do, I 
leave a legacy to my country because I feel conscious that my deatU 
were unprofitable, and all hopes of liberty extinct, the moment a 
French army obtained a footing in this land. God forbid that T 
should see my country under the hands of a foreign power. If the 
French should come as foreign enemy. Oh ! my couuirymen ! mee* 
them on the shore with a torch in one hand and a sword in the 
other: receive them with all the destruction of war ; immolate them 
in their boats, before our native soil shall be polluted by a foreign 
foe ! If they proceed in landing, fight them on the strand, burn 
every blade of grass before them as they advance — raze every 
house ; and if you are driven to the centre of your country, collect 
your provisions, your property, your wives and your daughters; 
form a circle around them — fight while but two men are left ; and 
when but one remains, let that man set fire to the pile, and re- 
lease himself, and the families of his fallen countrymen, from the 
tyranny of France. 

' My lamp of life is nearly expired — my race ia finished : the grave 
opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom All I request then, 
at parting from the world, is the charily of its silence. Let no man 
write my epitaph , for as no man, who knows my motives, dare vin- 
dicate them let not prejudice or ignorance asperethem; let them 
and ine repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain unde- 
Gcribcd, till other times and other men can do justice to my character.' 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 159 

dishonoured! There was nothing for memory to dwell 
on that could sooth the pang of separation — none of 
those tender, though melancholy circumstmces, that en- 
dear the parting scene — nothing to melt sorrow into 
those blessed tears, sent, like the dews of heaven, to re- 
vive the heart in the parting hour of anguis^h. 

To render her widowed situation more desolate, she 
had incurred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate 
attachment, and was an exile from the paternal roof. 
But could the sympathy and kind offices of friends have 
reached a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, she 
would have experienced no want of consolation, for the 
Irish are a people of quick and generous sensibilities. 
The most delicate and cherishing attentions were paid her 
by families of wealth and distinction. She was led into 
society, and they tried by all kinds of occupation and 
amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her from the 
tragical story of her loves. But it was all in vain. 
There are some strokes of calamity that scathe and scorch 
the soul — that penetrate to the vital seat of happiness — 
and blast it, never again to put forth bud or blossom. 
She never objected to frequent the haunts of pleasure, 
but she was as much alone there as in the depths of soli- 
tude. She walked about in a sad reverie, apparently un- 
conscious of the world around her. She carried with 
her an inward woe that mocked at all the blandishments 
of friendship, and " heeded not the song of the charmer, 
charm he never so wisely." 

The person who told me her story had seen her at a 
masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone 
wretchedness more striking and painful than to meet it 
in such a scene. To find it wandering like a spectre, 
lonely and joyless, where all around is gay — to see it 
diessed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so wan 
and woe-begone, as if it had tried in vain to cheat the 
poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sorrow. 
After stroUing through the splendid rooms and giddy 
crowd with an air of utter abstraction, she sat herself 
/lown on the steps of an orchestra, and looking about for 
some tmie with a vacant air, that showed her insensi- 
bility to the garish scene, she began, with the capricious- 
ness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plaintive air. 
She had an exquisite voice ; but on this occasion it was 
80 simple, so touching, it breathed forth such a soul of 



160 BEAUTIES OP 

wretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent around 
her, and melted every one into tears. 

The story of one so true and so tender could not but ex- 
cite great interest in a country remarkable for enthusi- 
asm. It completely won the heart of a brave officer, 
who paid his addresses to her, and thought that one so 
true to the dead could not but prove affectionate to the 
living. She declined his attentions, for her thoughts 
were irrevocably engrossed by the memory of her former 
lover. He, however, persisted in his suit. He solicited 
not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by 
her conviction of his worth, and her sense of her own 
destitute and dependant situation, for she was existing 
on the kindness of.friends. In a word, he at length suc- 
ceeded in gaining her hand, though with the solemn assu- 
rance, that her heart was unalterably another's 

He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change 
of scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes. 
She was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an ef- 
fort to be a happy one ; but nothing could cure the silent 
and devouring melancholy that had entered into her very 
soul. She wasted away in a slow, but hopeless de- 
cUne, and at length sunk into grave, the victim of a broken 
heart. * 



*It was on her, says our Author, that Moore, the distinguished 
Irish Poel, composed the following lines : 

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, 

And lovers around her are sighing; 
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, 

For her heart in his grave is lying. 

She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, 

Every note which he lov'd awaking — 
Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains. 

How the heart of the minstrel is breaking ! ' 

He had lived for his love— for his country he died, 
They were all that to life had entwined him — 

Nor soon siiall the tears of his country be dried, 
Nor long will his love stay behind him ! 

Oh ! make her a grave where the sun-beams rest, 
When they promise a glcrious morrow; 

They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the westt 
From her own lov'd island of sorrow I 






WASHINGTON IRVING. 161 



A WRECK AT SEA. 

We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at a 
distance. At sea, every thing that breaks the monotony 
of the surrounding expanse attracts attention. It proved 
to be the mast of a ship that must have been completely 
wrecked; for there were the remains of handkerchiefs, 
by which seme of the crew had fastened themselves to 
this spar, to prevent their being washed off by the waves. 
There was no trace by which the name of the ship could 
be ascertained. The wreck had evidently drifted about 
for many months ; clusters of shell fish had fastened about 
it, and long sea weeds flaunted at its sides. But where, 
thought I, is the crew 1 Their struggle has long been 
over — they have gone down amidst the roar of the tem- 
pest — their bones lie whitening among the caverns of the 
deep. Silence, oblivion, like the waves, have closed over 
them, and no one can tell the story of their end. What 
sighs have been wafted after that ship ! what prayers of- 
fered up at the deserted fireside of home ! How often has 
the mistress, the wife, the mother, pored over the daily 
news, to catch some casual intelligence of this rover of the 
deep ! How has expectation darkened into anxiety — 
anxiety into dread — and dread into despair ! Alas ! not 
one memento shall ever return for love to cherish. All 
that shall ever be known, is, that she sailed from her port, 
"and was never heard of more I'' 

The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many 
dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the 
evening, when the weather which had hitherto been fair, 
began to look wild and threatning, and gave indications of 
one of those sudden storms that will sometimes break in 
upon the serenity of a summer voyage. As we sat round 
the dull light of a lamp in the cabin, that made the gloom 
more ghastly, every one had his tale of shipwreck and 
disaster. I was particularly struck with a short one re- 
lated by the captain. 

"As I was saihng," said he, "in a fine stout ship, 
across the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy 
fogs that prevail in those parts rendered it impossible for 
us to see far ahead even in the day-time ; but at night 
the weather was so thick that we could not distinguish 
any object at twice the length of the ship. 1 kept lights 
at the mast head, and a constant watch forward to look 



162 BEAUTIES OF 

out for fishing smacks, which are accustomed to lie at an- 
chor on the banks. The wind was blowing a smacking 
breeze, and we were going at a great rate through the 
water. Suddenly the watch gave the thrilling alarm of 
' a sail-a-head ! ' — it was scarcely uttered before we were 
upon her. She was a small schooner, at anchor, with 
her broadside towards us. The crew were all asleep, and 
had neglected to hoist a light. We struck her just a-mid- 
ships. The force, the size, and weight of our vessel bore 
her down below the waves; we passed over her and were 
hurried on our course. As the crashing wreck was sink- 
ing beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three half na- 
ked wretches rushing from her cabin ; they just started 
from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the waves. 
I heard their drowning cry mingling with the wind. 
The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all fur- 
ther hearing. I shall never forget that cry ! it was 
some time before we could put the ship about, she was 
under such head-way. We returned, as nearly as we 
could guess, to the place where the smack had anchored. 
We cruised about for several hours in the dense fog. 
We fired signal guns, and listened if we might hear the 
halloo of any survivors: but all was silent — we never 
saw or heard any thing of them more." 

Land. 

It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of 
" land !" was given from the mast head. None but 
those who have experienced it, can form an idea of the 
delicious throng of sensations which rush into an Ameri- 
can's bosom, when he first comes in sight of Europe. 
There is a volume of associations with the very name. 
It is the land of promise, teeming with every thing of 
which his childhood has heard, or on which his studious 
years have pondered. 

From that time until the moment of arrival, it was 
all feverish excitement. The ships of war, that prowled 
like guardian giants along the coast ; the headlands of 
Ireland, stretching out into the channel ; the Welsh moun- 
tains, towering into the clouds ; all were objects of intense 
interest. As we sailed up the Mersey, I reconnoitred 
the shores with a telescope. My eye dwelt v^dth delight 
on neat cottages, with their trim shrubberies and green 
grass plots. I saw the mouldering ruin of an abbey 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 163 

overrun with ivy, and the taper spire of a village church 
risincr from the brow of a neighbouring hill — all were 
charactcnstic of England. 

The tide and wind were so favourable, that the ship 
was enabled to come at once to the pier. It was thronged 
with people; some idle lookers-on, others eager expect- 
ants of friends or relatives. I could distinguish the mer- 
chant to whom the ship was consigned. I knew him by 
his calculating brow and restless air. His hands were 
thrust into his pockets; he was whistling thought- 
fully, and walking to and fro, a small space having been 
accorded him by the crowd, in deference to his tempo- 
rary importance. There were repeated cheerings and salu- 
tations interchanged between the shore and ship, as friends 
happened to recognize each other. I particularly noticed 
one young woman of humble dress, but interesting de- 
meanour. She was leaning forward from among the 
crowd; her eye hurried over the ship as it neared the 
shore, to catch some wished-for countenance. She seem- 
ed disappointed and agitated ; when I heard a faint voice 
call her name. — It was from a poor sailor, who had been 
ill all the voyage, and had excited the sympathy of every 
one on board. When the weather was fine, his mess- 
mates had spread a mattress for him on deck in the shade, 
but of late his illness had so increased, that he had taken 
to his hammock, and only breathed a wish that he might 
see his wife before he died. He had been helped on deck 
as we came up the river, and was now leaning against 
the shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, so pale, so 
ghastly, that it was no wonder even the eye of affec- 
tion did not recognize him. But at the sound of his 
voice, her eye darted on his features ; it read, at once, a 
whole volume of sorrow ; she clasped her hands, uttered 
a faint shriek, and stood wringing them in silent agony. 



GENIUS. 

It is interesting to notice how some minds seem almost 
to create themselves, springing up under every disadvan- 
tage, and working their solitary but irresistable way 
through a thousand obstacles. Nature seems to delight 
in diappointing the assiduities of art, with which it would 
rear legitimate dullness to maturity; and to glory in the 



164 BEAUTIES OF 

vigour and luxuriance of her chance productions. She 
scatters the seeds of genius to the winds, and though 
some may perish among the stony places of the world, and 
some be choaked by the thorns and brambles of early ad- 
versity, yet others will now and then strike root even in 
the clefts of the rock, struggle bravely up into sunshine, 
and spread over their sterile birth-place all the beauties of 
vegetation. 



A CONTRAST. 

I WAS yet a stranger in England, and curious to notice 
the manners of its fashionable classes. I found, as usual, 
that there was the least pretension where there was the 
most acknowledged title to respect. I was particularly 
struck for instance, with the family of a nobleman of 
high rank, consisting of several sons and daughters. 
Nothing could be more simple and unassuming than their 
appearance. They generally came to church in the plain- 
est equipage, and often on foot. The young ladies would 
stop and converse in the kindest manner with the pea- 
santry, caress the children, and listen to the stories of the 
humble cottagers. Their countenances were open and 
beautifully fair with an expression of high refinement, 
but, at the same time, a frank cheerfulness, and an en- 
gaging affability. Their brothers were tall and elegantly 
formed. They were dressed fashionably, but simply; 
with strict neatness and propriety, but without any man- 
nerism or foppishness. Their whole demeanour was easy 
and natural, with that lofty grace, and noble frankness, 
which bespeak free-born souls that have never been check- 
ed in their growth by feelings of inferiority. There is a 
healthful hardiness about real dignity, that never dreads 
contact and communication with others, however humble, 
It is only spurious pride that is morbid and sensitive, and 
shrinks from every touch. I was pleased to see the man- 
ner in which they would converse with the peasantry 
about those rural concerns and field-sports, in which the 
gentlemen of this country so much delight. In these 
conversations, there was neither haughtiness on the one 
part, nor servility on the other; and you were only remind- 
ed of the diiference of rank by the habitual respect of the 
peasant. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 165 

In contrast to these, was the family of a wealthy citi- 
zen who had amassed a vast fortune; and, having pur- 
chased the estate and mansion of a ruined nobleman in 
the neighbourhood, was endeavouring to assume all the 
style and dignity of an hereditary lord of the soil. The 
family always come to church en prince. They were 
rolled majestically along in a carriage emblazoned with 
arms. The crest glittered in silver radiance from every 
part of the harness where a crest could possibly be placed. 
A fat coachman in a three-cornered hat, richly laced, and 
a flaxen wig, curling close round his rosy face, was seated 
on the box, with a sleek Danish dog beside him. Two foot- 
men, in gorgeous liveries, with huge bobquets, and gold- 
headed canes, lolled behind. The carriage rose and sunk 
on its long springs with peculiar stateliness of motion. 
The very horses champed their bits, arched their necks, 
and glanced their eyes more proudly than common horses ; 
either because they had got a little of the family feeling, 
or were reined up more tightly than ordinary. 

I could not but admire the style with which this splen- 
did pageant was brought up to the gate of the church- 
yard. There was a vast effect produced at the turning 
of an angle of the wall ; — a great smacking of the whip ; 
straining and scrambling of the horses ; glistening of har- 
ness, and flashing of wheels through gravel. This was 
the moment of triumph and vainglory to the coachman. 
The horses were urged and checked until they were fretted 
into a foam. They threw out their feet in a prancing 
trot, dashing about pebbles at every step. The crowd of 
villagers, sauntering quietly to church, opened precipitately 
to the right and left, gaping in vacant admiration. On 
reaching the gate the horses were pulled up with a sudden- 
ness that produced an immediate stop, and almost threw 
them on their haunches. 

There was an extraordinary hurry of the footmen to 
alight, open the door, pull down the steps, and prepare 
every thing for the descent on earth of this august family. 
The old citizen first emerged his round red face from out 
the door, looking about him with the pompous air of a man 
accustomed to rule on 'Change, and shake the Stock Mar- 
ket with a nod. His consort, a fine, fleshy, comfortable 
dame, followed him. There seemed, I must confess, but 
little pride in her composition. She was the picture of a 
broad, honest, vulgar enjoyment. The world went well 
with her ; and she liked the world. She had fine clothes, 



166 BEAUTIES OF 

a fine house, a fine carriage, fine children, every thing was 
fine about her : it was nothing but driving about, and visit- 
ing and feasting. Life was to her a perpetual revel ; it 
was one long Lord Mayor's day. 

Two daughters succeeded to this goodly couple. They 
certainly were handsome ; but had a supercilious air, that 
chilled admiration, and disposed the spectator to be critical. 
They were ultra-fashionable in dress; and, though no one 
could deny the richness of their decorations, yet their ap- 
propriateness might be questioned amidst the simplicity of 
a country church. They descended loftily from the car- 
riage, and moved up the line of peasantry with a step that 
seemed dainty of the soil it trod on. They cast an excur- 
sive glance around, that passed coldly over the burly faces 
of the peasantry, until they met the eyes of the nobleman's 
family, when their countenances immediately brightened 
into smiles, and they made the most profound and elegant 
courtesies ; which were returned in a manner that showed 
they were but slight acquaintances. 

I must not forget the two sons of this aspiring citizen, 
who came to church in a dashing curricle, with outriders. 
They were arrayed in the extremity of the mode, with all 
that pedantry of dress which marks the man of questiona- 
ble pretensions to style. They kept entirely by themselves, 
eyeing every one askance that came near them, as if mea- 
suring his claims to respectability ; yet they were without 
conversation, except the exchange of an occasional cant 
phrase. They even moved artificially ; for their bodies, in 
compliance with the caprice of the day, had been disciplined 
into the absence of all ease and freedom. Art had done 
every thing to accomplish them as men of fashion, but na- 
ture had denied them the nameless grace. They were vul- 
garly shaped, Hke men formed for the common purposes of 
life, and had that air of supercilious assumption which is 
never seen in the true gentleman. 

I have been rather minute in drawing the pictures of 
these two families, because 1 considered them specimens of 
what is often to be met with in this country — the unpre- 
tending great, and the arrogant little. I have no respect 
for titled rank, unless it be accompanied with true nobility 
of soul ; but 1 have remarked in all countries where artifi- 
cial distinctions exist, that the very highest classes are al- 
ways the most courteous and unassuming. Those who 
are well assured of their own standing, are least apt to tres- 
pass on that of others ; whereas, nothing is so offensive as 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 167 

the aspirings of vulgarity, which thinks to elevate itself by 
humiliating its neighbour. 

As I have brought these families into contrast, I must no- 
tice their behaviour in church. That of the nobleman's 
family was quiet, serious, and attentive. Not that they ap- 
peared to have any fervour of devotion, but rather a respect 
for sacred things, and sacred places, inseparable from good 
breeding. The others, on the contrary, were in a perpe- 
tual flutter and whisper; they betrayed a continual con- 
sciousness of finery, and a sorry ambition of being the won- 
ders of a rural congregation. 

The old gentleman was the only one really attentive to 
the service. He took the whole burden of family devotion 
upon himself, standing bolt upright and uttering the re- 
sponses with a loud voice that might be heard all over the 
church. It was evident that he was one of those thorough 
church and king men, who connect the idea of devotion and 
loyalty ; who consider the Deity, somehow or other, of the 
government party, and religion "a very excellent sort of 
thing, that ought to be countenanced and kept up." 

When he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed more 
by way of example to the lower orders, to show them, that, 
though so great and wealthy, he was not above being reli- 
gious ; as I have seen a turtle-fed Alderman swallow pub- 
hcly a basin of charity soup, smacking his lips at every 
mouthful, and pronouncing it " excellent food for the poor." 

When the service was at an end, I was curious to wit- 
ness the several exits of my groups. The young noblemen 
and their sisters, as the day was fine, preferred strolling 
home across the fields, chatting with the country people as 
they went. The others departed as they came, in grand 
parade. Again were the equipages wheeled up to the 
gate. There was again the smacking of whips, the clat- 
tering of hoofs, and the glittering of harness. The horses 
started ofi' almost at a bound ; the villagers again hurried 
to right and left ; the wheels threw up a cloud of dust ; 
and the aspiring family was wrapt out of sight in a whirl- 
wind. 



168 BEAUTIES OF 

LETTER 

FROM MUST A PH A RUB-A-DUB KELT KHAN, 
To Asem Hacchem, principal Slave-driver to his Highness 
the Bashaw of Tripoli. 

Sweet, O Asem ! is the memory of distant friends ! 
Lilie the mellow ray of a departing sun, it falls tenderly 
yet sadly on the heart. Every hour of absence frora my 
native land rolls heavily by, like the sandy wave of the de- 
sert; and the fair shores of my country rise blooming to 
my imagination, clothed in the soft illusive charms of dis- 
tance. I sigh, yet no one listens to the sigh of the captive : 
I shed the bitter tear of recollection, but no one sympathises 
in the tear of the turbaned stranger ! — Think not, however, 
thou brother of my soul, that I complain of the horrors of 
my situation ; think not that my captivity is attended with 
the labours, the chains, the scourges, the insults, that ren- 
der slavery, with us, more dreadful than the pangs of hesi- 
tating, lingering death. Light, indeed, are the restraints 
on the personal freedom of thy kinsman; but who can enter 
into the afflictions of the mind ? who can describe the ago- 
nies of the heart? They are mutable as the clouds of the 
air ; they are countless as the waves that divide me from 
my native country. 

I have, of late, my dear Asem, laboured under an incon- 
venience singularly unfortunate, and am reduced to a di- 
lemma most ridiculously embarrassing. Why should I 
hide it from the companion of my thoughts, the partner of 
my sorrows and my joys 1 Alas ! Asem, thy friend Mus- 
tapha, the invincible captain of a ketch, is sadly in want of 
a pair of breeches ! Thou v^dlt, doubtless smile, O most 
grave Mussulman, to hear me indulge in such ardent la- 
mentations about a circumstance so trivial, and a want ap- 
parently so easy to be satisfied: but Uttle canst thou know 
of the mortifications attending my necessities, and the as- 
tonishing diflBcuIty of supplying them. Honoured by the 
smiles and attentions of the beautiful ladies of this city, 
who have fallen in love with my whiskers and my turban ; — 
courted by the bashaws and the great men, who delight to 
have me at their feasts ; the honour of my company eagerly 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 169 

solicited by every fiddler who gives a concert ; think of my 
chagrin at being obliged to decline the host of invitations 
that daily overwhelm me, merely for want of a pair of 
breeches! Oh, Allah! Allah! that thy disciples could 
come into the world all be-feathered like a bantam, or with a 
pair of leather breeches like the wild deer of the forest ; 
purely, my friend, it is the destiny of man to be for ever 
subjected to petty evils, which, however trifling in ap- 
pearance, prey in silence on this little pittance of enjoyment, 
and poison these moments of sunshine, which might 
otherwise be consecrated to happiness. 

The want of a garment, thou wilt say, is easily sup- 
plied ; and thou mayest suppose need only be mentioned, 
to be remedied at once by any tailor of the land. Little 
canst thou conceive the impediments which stand in the 
way of my comfort, and still less art thou acquainted 
with the prodigious great scale on which every thing is 
transacted in this country. The nation moves most ma- 
jestically slow and clumsy in the most trivial afl^airs, like 
the unwieldy elephant which makes a formidable difficul- 
ty of picking up a straw ! When I hinted my necessities 
to the officer who has charge of myself and my compan- 
ions, I expected to have been forthwith relieved ; but he 
made an amazingly long face — told me that we were 
prisoners of state — that we must therefore be clothed at 
the expense of the government; that as no provision has 
been made by the Congress for an emergency of the kind, 
it was impossible to furnish me with a pair of breeches, 
until all the sages of the nation had been convened to talk 
over the matter, and debate upon the expediency of grant- 
ing my request. Sword of the immortal Khalid, thought 
I, but this is great ! — this is truly sublime ! All the sa- 
ges in an immense logocracy assembled together to talk 
about my breeches ! — Vain mortal that I am ! I cannot 
but own I was somewhat reconciled to the delay which 
must necessarily attend this method of clothing me, by 
the consideration that if they made the affair a national 
act, my " name must of course be embodied in history," 
and myself and my breeches flourish to immortaHty in the 
annals of this mighty empire I 

"But pray, sir," said I, " how does it happen that a 
matter so insignificant should be erected into an object of 
such importance as to employ the representative wisdom 
of the nation? and what is the cause of their talking so 
much about a trifle !" — " Oh," replied the officer, who 

15 



170 BEAUTIES OF 

acts as our slave-driver ; " it all proceeds from economy^ 
If the government did not spend ten times as much mo-- 
ney in debating v^hether it was proper to supply you with 
breeches as the breeches themselves Would cost, the peo- 
ple, who govern the bashaw and his divan, would 
straightway begin to complain of their liberties being in- 
fringed — the national finances squandered — not a hos- 
tile slang-whanger throughout the logocracy but would 
burst forth like a barrel of combustion — and ten chances 
to one but the bashaw and the sages of his divan would 
all be turned out of office together. My good Mussel^ 
man," continued he, "the administration have the good 
of the people too much at heart to trifle with their pockets ; 
and they would sooner assemble and talk away ten thou^ 
sand dollars than expend fifty silently out of the treasury 
^-such is the wonderful spirit of economy that pervades 
every branch of this government." " But," said I, "how 
is it possible they can spend money in talking : surely 
Words cannot be the current coin of this country 7" — 
"Truly," cried he, smiUng, "your question is pertinent 
enough, for words indeed often supply the place of cash 
among us, and many an honest debt is paid in promises ; 
but the fact is, the grand bashaw and the members of 
Congress, or grand talkers of the nation, either receive a 
yearly salary or are paid by the day." — 'By the nine 
hundred tongues of the great beast in Mahomet's vision, 
but the murder is out ! it is no wonder these honest men 
talk so much about nothing, when they are paid for 
talking Uke day-labourers." "^You are mistaken," said 
my driver ; "it is nothing but economy." 

I remained silent for some minutes, for this inexpli- 
cable word economy always discomfits me; — and when 
I flatter myself I have grasped it, it slips through my 
fingers like a jack-o' lantern. I have not, nor perhaps 
ever shall acquire, sufficient of the philosophic policy of 
this government, to draw a proper distinction between an 
individual and a nation. If a man was to throw away 
a pound in order to save a beggarly penny, and boast at 
the same time of his economy, I should think him on a 
par with the fool in the fable of Alfangi ; who, in skin- 
ning a flint worth a farthing, spoiled a knife worth fifty 
times the sum, and thought he had acted wisely. The 
shrewd fellow would doubtless have valued himself much 
more highly on his economy, could he have known that 



WASHINGTON IRVING 171 

his example would one day be followed by the bashaw 
of America, and the sages of his divan. 

This economic disposition, my friend, occasions much 
fighting of the spirit, and innumerable contests of the 
toncTue in this talkincf assembly. Wouldst thou believe 
It? they were actually employed for a whole week in a 
most strenuous and eloquent debate about patching up a 
hole in the wall in the room appropriated to their meet- 
ings! A vast profusion of nervous argument and pomp- 
ous declamation was expended on this occasion. Some 
of the orators, I am told, being rather waggishly inclined 
were most stupidly jocular on the occasion; but their 
waggery gave great offence, and was highly reprobated 
by the more weighty part of the assembly; who hold all 
wit and humour in abomination, and thought the busi- 
ness in hand much too solemn and serious to be treated 
hghtly. It was supposed by some that this affair would 
have occupied a whole winter, as it was a subject upon 
which several gentlemen spoke who had never been 
known to open their lips in that place except to say yes 
and no. — These silent members are by way of distinction 
denominated orator mums, and are highly valued in this 
country on account of their great talents for silence; — 
a qualification extremely rare in a logocracy. 

Fortunately for the public tranquility, in the hottest 
part of the debate, when two rampant Virginians, brim 
full of logic and philosophy, were measuring tongues, 
and syllogistically cudgelling each other out of their un- 
reasonable notions, the president of the divan, a knowing 
old gentleman, one night slyly sent a mason with a hod 
of mortar, who in the course of a few minutes closed up 
the hole, and put a final end to the argument. Thus 
did this wise old gentleman, by hitting on a most simple 
expedient, in all probability, save his country as much 
money as would build a gun-boat, or pay a hirehng slang- 
whanger for a whole volume of words. As it happened, 
only a few thousand dollars were expended in paying 
these men, who are denominated, I suppose in derision, 
legislators. 

Another instance of their economy I relate with plea- 
sure, for I really begin to feel a regard for these poor 
barbarians. They talked away the best parts of a whole 
winter before they could determine not to expend a few 
dollars in purchasing a sword to bestow on an illustri- 
ous warrior ; yes, Asera, on that very hero who fright- 
ened all our poor old women and young children at 



172 BEAUTIES OF 

Derne, and fully proved himself a greater man than the 
mother that bore him.* Thus, my friend, is the whole 
collective wisdom of this mighty logocracy employed in 
somniferous debates about the most trivial ati'airs; as I 
have sometimes seen a Herculean mountebank exerting 
all his energies in balancing a straw upon his nose. 
Their sages behold the minutest object with the micro- 
scopic eyes of a pismire; mole-hills swell into mountains, 
and a grain of mustard-seed will set the whole ant-hill 
in a hubbub. Whether this indicates a capacious vision, 
or a diminutive mind, I leave thee to decide ; for my . 
part I consider it as another proof of the great scale on 
which every thing is transacted in this country. 

I have before told thee that nothing can be done with- 
out consulting the sages of the nation, who compose the 
assembly called the Congress. This prolific body may 
not improperly be called the "mother of inventions ;"' and 
a most fruitful mother it is, let me tell thee, though its 
children are generally abortions. It has lately laboured 
with what was deemed the conception of a mighty navy^ — 
All the old women and the good wives that assist the 
bashaw in his emergencies hurried to head-quarters to be 
busy, like midwives, at the delivery. — All was anxiety, 
fidgeting, and consultation; when after a deal of groan- 
ing and struggling, instead of formidable first-rates and 
gallant frigates, out crept a litter of sorry little gun-boats. 
These are most pitiful little vessels, partaking vastly of 
the character of the grand bashaw, who has the credit 
of begetting them; being flat shallow vessels that can on- 
ly sail before the wind ; — must always keep in with the 
land ; — are continually foundering or running on shore ; 
and in short, are only fit for smooth water. Though in- 
tended for the defence of the maritime cities, yef the cities 
are obliged to defend them ; and they require as much 
nursing as so many rickety little bantlings. They are, 
however, the darling pets of the grand bashaw, being the 
children of his dotage, and, perhaps from their diminu- 
tive size and palpable weakness, are called the " infant 
navy of America." The art that brought them into ex- 
istence was almost deified by the majority of the people 
as a grand stroke of economy. — By the beard of Maho- 
met, but this word is truly inexpllcabl e ! 

To this economic body therefore was I advised to ad- 
dress my petition, and humbly to pray that the august 

* General Eaton. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 173 

assembly of sages would, in the plenitude of their wisdom 
and the magnitude of their powers, munificently bestow 
on an unfortunate captive a pair of cotton breeches ! 
" Head of the immortal Amrou," cried I, " but this 
would be presumptuous to a degree : — What ! after these 
worthies have thought proper to leave their country na- 
ked and defenceless, and exposed to all the political storms 
that rattle without, can I expect that they will lend a 
helping hand to comfort the extremities of a solitary cap- 
tive V My exclamation was only answered by a smile, 
and I was consoled by the assurance that, so far from 
being neglected, it was every way probable my breeches 
might occupy a whole session of the divan, and set several 
of the longest heads together by the ears. Flattering as 
was the idea of a whole nation being agitated about my 
breeches, yet I own I was somewhat dismayed at the idea 
of remaining in qv£rpo, until all the national gray-beards 
should have made a speech on the occasion, and given 
their consent to the measure. The embarrassment and 
distress of mind which J experienced were visible in my 
countenance, and my guard, who is a man of infinite 
good- nature, immediately suggested, as a more expedi- 
tious plan of supplying my wants, a benefit at the theatre. 
Though profoundly ignorant of his meaning, I agreed to 
his proposition, the result of which I shall disclose to thee 
in another letter. 

Fare thee well, dear Asem ; in thy pious prayers to 
our great prophet, never forget to solicit thy friend's re- 
turn ; and when thou numberest up the many blessings 
bestowed on thee by all-bountiful Allah, pour forth thy 
gratitude that he has cast thy nativity in a land where 
there is no assembly of legislative chatterers; — no great 
bashaw, who bestrides a gun-boat for a hobby-horse ; — 
where the word economy is unknown; — and where an 
unfortunate captive is not obliged to call upon the whole 
nation to cut him out a pair of breeches. 



A warlike Portrait of the great Peter— and how General 
Von Poffenhurgh distinguished himself at Fort Cassimir. 

Hitherto, most venerable aud courteous reader, have 
I shown thee the administration of the valorous Stuyve- 
sant under the mild moonshine of peace, or rather the 
grim tranquility of awful expectation ; but now the war- 

15 * » 



174 BEAUTIES OF 

drum rumbles from afar, the brazen trumpet brays its 
thrilling note, and the rude clash of hostile arms speaks 
fearful prophecies of coming troubles. The gallant war- 
rior starts from soft repose, from golden visions, and vo- 
luptuous ease ; where, in the dulcet "piping time of peace," 
he sought sweet solace after all his tolls. No more in beau- 
ty's siren lap reclined, he weaves fair garlands for his la- 
dy's brows ; no more entwines with flowers his shining 
sword ; nor through the Uve long lazy summer's day, chants 
forth his lovesick soul in madrigals. To manhood roused, 
he spurns the amorous lute ; doffs from his brawny back 
the robe of peace, and clothes his pampered limbs in pan- 
oply of steel. O'er his dark brow, where late the myrtle 
waved — where wanton roses breathed enervate love — he 
rears the beaming casque and nodding plume ; grasps the 
bright shield, and shakes the ponderous lance ; or mounts 
with ea,ger pride the fiery steed, and burns for deeds of glo- 
rious chivalry. 

But soft, worthy reader! I would not have you ima- 
gine, that any preux chevalier, thus hideously begirt with 
iron, existed in the city of New- Amsterdam. This is but 
a lofty and gigantic mode in which heroic writers always 
talk of war, thereby to give it a noble and imposing as- 
pect ; equipping our warriors with bucklers, helmets, and 
lances, and such like outlandish and obsolete weapons, 
the like which perchance they had never seen or heard 
of; in the same manner that a cunning statuary arrays a 
modern general or an admiral in the accoutrements of a 
Caesar or an Alexander. The simple truth then of all 
this oratorical flourish is this — that the valiant Peter 
Stuyvesant, all of a sudden, found it necessary to scour 
his trusty blade, which too long had rusted in its scab- 
bard, and prepare himself to undergo the hardy toils of 
war, in which his mighty soul so much delighted. 

Methinks I at this moment behold him in my imagi- 
tion — or rather, I behold his goodly portrait, which still 
hangs up in the family mansion of the Stuyvesants, ar- 
rayed in all the terrors of a true Dutch General. His 
regimental coat of German blue, gorgeouly decorated 
with a goodly show of large brass buttons, reaching from 
his waistband to his chin. The volumnious skirts turned 
up at the corners and separating gallantly behind, so as 
to display the seat of a sumptuous pair of brimstone 
coloured trunk breeches — a graceful style still prevalent 
among the warriors of our day, and which is in confer- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 175 

mity to the custom of ancient heroes, who scorned to de- 
fend themselves in rear. His face rendered exceeding 
terrible and warlike by a pair of black mustachios ; his 
hair strutting out on each side in stiffly pomatumed ear- 
locks, and descending in a rat-tail queue below his waist; 
a shining stock of black leather supporting his chin, and a 
little, b^i^t fierce cocked hat, stuck with a gallant and fiery 
air over his left eye. Such was the chivalric port of 
Peter the Headstrong ; and when he made a sudden halt, 
planted himself firmly on his solid suppoter, with his 
wooden leg inlaid with silver, a little in advance, in order 
to stengthen his position, his right hand grasping a gold- 
headed cane, his left resting upon the pummel of his 
sword ; his head dressing spiritedly to the right with a 
most appalling and hard favoured frown upon his brow — 
he presented altogether one of the most commanding, 
bitter looking and soldierhke figures that ever strutted 
upon canvass. Proceed we now to mqmre the cause of 
tliis warlike preparation. 

The encroaching disposition of the Swedes, on the 
south or Delaware river, has been duly recorded in the 
chronicles of the reign of William the Testy. These 
encroachments, having been endured with that heroic 
magnanimity which is the corner stone, or, according to 
Aristotle, the left hand neighbour of true courage, had 
been repeated and wickedly aggravated. 

The Swedes who were of that class of cunning preten- 
ders to Christianity, who read the Bible upside down, 
whenever it interferes with their interests, inverted thegol- 
den maxim ; and when their neighbour suffered them to 
smite him on the one cheek, they generally smote him on 
the other also, whether turned to them or not. Their re- 
peated aggressions had been among the numerous sources 
of vexation that conspired to keep the irritable sensibilities 
of Wilhelmus Kieft in a constant fever; and it was only 
owing to the unfortunate circmustance that he had always 
a hundred things to do at once, that he did not take such 
unrelenting vengeance as their offences merited. But they 
had now a chieftain of a different character to deal with ; 
and they were soon guilty of a piece of treachery, that 
threw his honest blood in a ferment and precluded all fur- 
ther sufiferance. 

Printz, the governor of the province of New-Sweden, 
being either deceased or removed, for of this fact some 
uncertainty exists, was succeeded by Jan Risingh, a gigan- 



17G BEAUTIES OF 

tic Swede ; and who, had he not been rather Icnockneed 
and splay-footed, might have served for the model of a Sam- 
son or a Bercules. He was no less rapacious than mighty, 
and withal as crafty as he was rapacious; so that, in fact, 
there is very little doubt, had he lived some four or five cen- 
turies before, he would have been one of those wicked gi- 
ants, who took such a cruel pleasure in pocketting distres' 
sed damsels, when gadding about in the world ; and locking 
them up in enchanted castles, without a toilet, a change of 
linen, or any other convenience. In consequence of which 
enormities, they fell under the high displeasure of chivalry, 
and all true, loyal, and gallant knights, were instructed to 
attack and slay outright any miscreant they might happen 
to find, above six feet high ; which is doubtless one reason 
that the race of large men is nearly extinct, and the gene- 
rations of latter ages so exceeding small. 

No sooner did Governor Risingh enter upon his office 
than he immediately cast his eyes upon the important 
post of Fort Casimer, and formed the righteous resolution 
of taking it into his possession. The only thing that re- 
m'lined to consider was the mode of carrying his resolu- 
lution into effect; and here I must do him the justice to say, 
that he exhibited a humanity rarely to be met with 
among leaders, and which 1 have never seen equalled in 
modern times, excepting among the English, in their glo- 
rious affair at Copenhagen. Willing to spare the effusion 
of blood, and the miseries of open warfare, he benevolently 
shunned every thing like avowed hostihty or regular 
siege, and resorted to the less glorious but more merciful 
expedient of treachery. 

Under pretence, therefore of paying a neighbourly visit 
to General Von Poffenburgh, at his new post ot Fort 
Casimir, he made requisite preparation, sailed in great 
state up the Delaware, displayed his flag with the most 
ceremoneous punctillio, and honoured the fortress with a 
royal salute previous to dropping anchor. The unusual 
noise awakened a veteran Dutch sentinel, who was nap- 
ping faithfully at his post, and who having suffered his 
match to go out, contrived to return the compliment, by 
discharging his rusty musket with the spark of a pipe, 
■which he borrowed from one of his comrades. The salute 
indeed would have been answered by the guns of the fart, 
had they not been unfortunately out of order, and the ma- 
gazine deficient in ami^iunition — accidents to vy^hich forts 
Jiave in all ages been liable, and which were the more ex- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 177 

cusable in the present instance, as Fort Casimir had only 
been erected about two years, and General Von Poffen- 
burgh, its mighty commander had been fully occupied 
with matters of much greater importance. 

Risingh, highly satisfied with this courteous reply to 
his salute, treated the fort to a second, for he well knew 
its commander was marvellously delighted with these little 
ceremonials, which he considered as so many acts of ho- 
mage paid unto his greatness. He then landed in great 
state, attended by a suite of thirty men — a prodigious and 
vainglorious retinue, for a petty governor of a petty settle- 
ment, in those days of primitive simplicity ; and to the full 
as great an army as generally swells the pomp and marches 
in the rear of our frontier commanders at the present 
day. 

The number in fact might have awakened suspicion, had 
not the mind of the great Von PofFenburgh been so complete- 
ly engrossed with an all-pervading idea of himself, that he 
had not room to admit a thought besides. In fact, he conside- 
red the concourse of Risingh's followers as a compliment to 
himself — so apt are great men to stand between themselves 
and the sun, and completely eclipse the truth by their own 
shadow. 

It may readily be imagined how much General Von 
Poffenburgh was flattered by a visit from so august a 
personage ; his only embarrassments was, how he should 
receive him in such a manner as to appear to the greatest 
advantage, and made the most advantageous impression. 
The main guard was ordered immediately to turn out, 
and the arms and regimentals (of which the garrison pos- 
sessed full half a dozen suits) were equally distributed 
among the soldiers. One tall lank fellow appeared in a 
coat intended for a small man, the skirts of which reached 
a little below his waist, the buttons were between his 
shoulders, and the sleeves half way to his wrists, so that 
his hands looked like a couple of huge spades ; and the 
coat not being large enough to meet in front, was linked 
together by loops, made of a pair of red worsted garters. 
Another had an old cocked hat, stuck on the back of his 
head, and decorated with a bunch of cock's tails— a third 
had a pair of rusty gaiters, hanging about his heels — while 
a fourth, who was a short duck-legged little Trojan, was 
equipped in a huge pair of the general's cast off breeches, 
which he held up with one hand, while he grasped his 
firelock with the other. The rest were accoutred in simi- 



178 BEAUTIES OF 

lar style, excepting three graceless ragamuffins, who had 
no shirts, and but a pair and half of breeches between 
them, wherefore they were sent to the black-hole to keep 
them out of view. There is nothing in which the talents 
of a prudent commander are more completely testified than 
in thus setting matters off to the greatest advantage ; and it 
is for this reason that our frontier posts at the present day 
(that of Niagara for example,) display their best suit of re- 
gimentals on the back of the sentinel who stands in sight of 
travellers. 

His men being thus gallantly arrayed — those who 
lacked muskets shouldering spades and pickaxes, and 
every man being ordered to tuck in his shirt tail and pull 
up his brogues. General Von Poffenburgh first took a stur- 
dy draught of foaming ale, which, like the magnanimous 
More of Morehall, was his invariable practice on all great 
occasions ; which done, he put himself at their head, or- 
dered the pine planks which served as a draw bridge, to be 
laid down, and issued forth from his caetle, like a mighty 
giant, just refreshed with wine. But when the two he- 
roes met, then began a scene of warlike parade, and chi- 
valric courtesy that beggars all description, Risingh, who, 
as I before hinted, was a shrewd, cunning politician, and 
had grown gray much before his time, in consequence of 
his craftiness, saw at one glance the ruling passion of the 
great Von Poffenburgh, and humoured him in all his valo- 
rous fantasies. 

Their detachments were accordingly drawn up in front 
of each other ; they carried arms, and they presented arms; 
they gave the standing salute and the passing salute : — they 
rolled their drums, they flourished their fifes, and they wa- 
ved their colours — they faced to the left, and they faced to 
the right, and they faced to the right about: — they wheeled 
forward, and they wheeled backward, and they wheeled into 
enchelon;-. — they marched and they counter-marched by 
grand divisions, by single divisions, and by subdivisions, — ■ 
by platoons, by sections, and by files, — to quick time, in 
slow time, and in no time at all : for, having gone through all 
the evolutions of two great armies, including the eighteen 
mancEUVTCS of Dundas ; having exhausted all that they could 
recollect or imagine of military tactics, including sundry 
strange and irregular evolutions, the like of which were never 
seen before or since, excepting among certain of our newly 
raised militia — the two great commanders and their respec^ 
tive troops came at length to a dead halt, completely exhaust^ 



WASHINGTON IRVING. IjQ 

ed by the toils of war. Never did two valiant train band cap- 
tains, or two buskined theatric heroes, in the renowned tra- 
gedies of Pizarro, Tom Thumb, or any other heroical and 
fighting tragedy, marshal their gallows-looking, duck-leg- 
ged heavy-hecied myrmidons, with more glory and self- 
admiration. 

These military compliments being finished, General 
Von PoiTenburgh escorted his illustrious visiter, with 
great ceremony, into the fort ; attended him throughout 
the fortifications ; showed him the horn-works, crown- 
works, half-moons, and various other out works ; or rather 
the places where they ought to be erected ; and where 
they might be erected if he pleased ; plainly demonstraing 
that it was a place of " great capabiUty," and though 
at present but a little redoubt, yet that it evidently was 
a formidable fortress in embryo. This survey over, he 
next had the whole garrison put under arms, exercisecl 
and reviewed, and concluded by ordering the three bride- 
well birds to be hauled out of the black hole, brought up 
to the halberts, and soundly flogged for the amusement 
of his visiter and to convince him that he was a great 
disciplinarian. 

There is no error more dangerous than for a com- 
mander to make known the strength, or, as in the present 
case, the weakness of his garrison ; this will be exempli- 
fied before I have arrived to the end of my present story, 
which thus carries its moral, like a roasted goose his 
pudding, in the very middle. The cunning Risingh, 
while he pretended to be struck dumb outright, with the 
puissance of the great Von Poffenburgh, took silent note 
of the incompetency of his garrison, of which he gave a 
hint to his trusty followers, who tipped each other the 
wink, and laughed most obstreperously — in their sleeves. 

The inspection, review, and flogging being concluded, 
the party adjourned to the table; for among bis other 
great qualities, the general was remarkably addicted to 
huge entertainments, or rather carousals ; and in one 
aflernoon's campaign would leave more dead men on the 
field than ever he did m the whole course of his military 
career. Many bulletins of these bloodless victories do 
still remain on record ; and the whole province was once 
thrown in amaze by the return of one of his campaigns ; 
wherein it was stated, that though, like Captain Bobadil, 
he had only twenty men to back him, yet, in the short 
space of six months, he had conquered and utterly anni- 



180 BEAUTIES OF 

hilated sixty oxen, ninety hogs, one hundred sheep, ten 
thousand cabbages, one thousand bushels of potatoes, one 
hundred and fifty kilderkins of small beer, two thousand 
seven hundred and thirty-five pipes, seventy-eight pounds 
of sugar plums, and forty bars of iron, besides sundry 
small meats, game, poultry, and garden staffs. An 
achievement unparalleled since the days of Pantagruel 
and his all-devouring army ; and which showed that it 
was only necessary to let bellipotent Von Poffenburgh 
and his garrison loose in an enemy's country, and in a 
little while they would breed a famine, and starve all the 
inhabitants. 

No sooner, therefore, had the general received the 
first intimation of the visit of Governor Risingh, than he 
ordered a great dinner to be prepared ; and privately sent 
out a detachment of his most experienced veterans to rob 
all the hen roosts in the neighbourhood, and lay the pig- 
sties under contribution — a service to which they had 
been long inured, and which they discharged with such 
incredible zeal and promptitude, that the garrison table 
groaned under the weight of their spoils. 

I wish, with all my heart, my readers could see the 
valiant Von Poffenburgh, as he presided at the head of 
the banquet. It was a sight worth beholding : — there he 
sat, in his greatest glory, surrounded by his soldiers, like 
that famous wine-bibber, Alexander, whose thirsty vir- 
tues he did most ably imitate ; telling astonishing stories 
of his hair-breadth adventures and heroic exploits, at 
which, though all his auditors knew them to be most 
incontinent and outrageous gasconades, yet did they cast 
up their eyes in admiration, and utter many interjections 
of astonishment. Nor could the general pronounce any 
thing that bore the remotest resemblance to a joke but 
the stout Risingh would strike his brawny fist upon the 
table, till every gllas rattled again, throwing himself 
back in his chair, and uttering gigantic peals of laughter, 
swearing most horribly it was the best joke he ever 
heard in his hfe. Thus all was rout and revelry and 
hideous carousal wdthin Fort Cassimir ; and so lustily did 
Von Poffenburgh ply the bottle that in less than four 
short hours he made himself and his whole garrison, who 
all sedulously emulated the deeds of their chieftain, dead 
drunk, in singing songs, quaffing bumpers, and drinking 
patriotic toasts, none of which but was as long as a Welsh 
pedigree, or a plea at Chancery. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. IgJ 

No sooner did things come to this pass than the crafty 
Risingh and his Swedes, who had cunningly kept them- 
selves sober, rose on their entertainers, tied them neck 
and heels, and took formal possession of the fort, and all 
its dependencies, in the name of Gtueen Christina of 
Sweden ; administering, at the same time, an oath of 
allegiance to all the Dutch soldiers who could be made 
sober enough to swallow it. Risingh then put the 
fortifications in order, appointed his discreet and vigilant 
friend Suen Scutz, a tall, wind-dried, water-drinking, 
Swede, to the command ; and departed, bearing with 
him this truly amiable garrison and their puissant com- 
mander, who, when brought to himself by a sound 
drubbing, bore no small resemblance to a "deboshed fish," 
or bloated sea monster, caught upon dry land. 

The transportation of the garrison was done to prevent 
the transmission of intelligence to New-Amsterdam ; for 
much as the cunning Risingh exulted in his stratagem, 
he dreaded the vengeance of the sturdy Peter Stuyvesant, 
whose name spread as much terror in the neighbourhood 
as did whilome that of the unconquerable Scanderberg 
among his scurvy enemies the Turks. 



16 



( 182 ) 

THE 

MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE, 

A COLLOClUy IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 



There are certain half-dreaming moods of mind, in which 
we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and seek 
some quiet haunt, where we may indulge our reveries, 
and build our air castles undisturbed. In such a mood, 
I was loitering about the old gray cloisters of Westmin- 
ster Abbey, enjoying that luxury of wandering thought 
which one is apt to dignify with the name of reflection ; 
when suddenly an irruption of madcap boys from West- 
minster school, playing at foot-ball, broke in upon the 
monastic stillness of the place, making the vaulted pas- 
sages and mouldering tombs echo with their merriment. 
I sought to take refuge from their noise by penetrating 
still deeper into the solitudes of the pile, and applied to 
one of the vergers for admission to the library. He con- 
ducted me through a portal rich with the crumbling sculp- 
ture of former ages, which opened upon a gloomy pas- 
sage leading to the Chapter-house, and the chamber in 
which Doomsday Book is deposited. Just within the 
passage is a small door on tlie left. To this the verger 
applied a key ; it was double locked, and opened with 
some difficulty, as if seldom used. We now ascended a 
dark narrow staircase, and passing through a second door,, 
entered the library. 

I found myself in a lofty antique hall, the roof sup- 
ported by massive joists of old English oak. It was 
soberly lighted by a row of Gothic windows at a con- 
siderable height from the floor, and which apparently 
opened upon the roofs of the cloisters. An ancient pic- 
ture of some reverend dignitary of the church in his 
robes hung over the fire-place. Around tlie hall and in 
a small gallery were the books, arranged in carved 
oaken cases. They consisted principally of old polemical 
writers, and were much more worn by time than use. 
In the centre of the library was a solitary table, with 
two or three books on it, an inkstand without ink, and 



183 BEAUTIES OF 

a few pens parched by long disuse. The place seemed fit- 
ted for quiet study and profound meditation. It was bu- 
ried deep among the massive walls of the abbey, and shut 
up from the tumult of the world, I could only hear now 
and then the shouts of the schoolboys faintly swelling from 
the cloisters, and the sound of a bell tolling for prayers, that 
echoed soberly along the roofs of the abbey. By degrees 
the shouts of merriment grew fainter and fainter, and at 
length died away. The bell ceased to toll, and a profound 
silence reigned through the dusky hall. 

I had taken down a little thick quarto, curiously bound 
in parchment, with brass clasps, and seated myself at the 
table in a venerable elbow chair. Instead of reading, how- 
ever, I was beguiled by the solemn monastic air, and lifeless 
quiet of the place, into a train of musing. As I looked, 
around upon the old volumes in their mouldering covers, 
thus ranged on the shelves, and apparently never disturbed 
m their repose, I could not but consider the library a kind of 
hterary catacomb, where authors, like mummies, are pious- 
ly entombed, and left to blacken and moulder in dusty obli- 
vion. 

How much, thought I, has each of these volumes, now 
thrust aside with such indiflerence, cost some aching 
head ! how many weary days ! how many sleepless 
nights ! How have their authors buried themselves in 
the solitude of cells and cloisters ; shut themselves up from 
the face of man, and the still more blessed face of na- 
ture ; and devoted themselves to painful research and in- 
tense reflection I And all for what 1 to occupy an inch 
of dusty shelf — to have the title of their works read now 
and then in a future age, by some drowsy churchman or 
casual straggler like myself; and in another age to be 
lost, even in remembrance. Such is the amount of this 
boasted immortality. A mere temporary rumour, a local 
sound ; like the tone of that bell which has just tolled 
among these towers, filling the ear for a moment — linger- 
ing transiently in echo — and then passiiig away like a 
thing that was not ! 



184 BEAUTIES OP 



BOOK MAKING. 

There was one dapper little gentleman in bright coloured 
clothes, with a chirping gossiping expression of counte- 
nance, who had all the appearance of an author on good 
terms with his bookseller. After considering him atten- 
tively, I recognized in him a diligent getter up of miscel- 
laneous works, which bustled off well with the trade. I 
was curious to see how he manufactured his wares. He 
made more stir and show of business than any of the 
others; dipping into various books, fluttering over the 
leaves of manuscripts, taking a morsel out of one, a mor- 
sel out of another, "line upon line, precept upon precept, 
here a little and there a little," The contents of his book 
seemed to be as heterogeneous as those of the witches' 
caldron in Macbeth. It was here a finger and there a 
thumb, toe of frog and blind worm's sting, with his own 
gossip poured in, like " baboon's blood," to make the med- 
ley "slab and good." 

After all, thought I, may not this pilfering disposition 
be implanted in authors for wise purposes ; may it not 
be the way in which Providence has taken care that the 
seeds of knowledge and wisdom shall be preserved from 
age to age, in spite of the inevitable decay of the works 
in which they were first produced? We see that nature 
has wisely, though whimsically, provided for the convey- 
ance of seeds from clime to clime, in the maws of certain 
birds ; so that animals, which, in themselves, are little 
better than carrion, and apparently the lawless plunderers 
of the orchard and the corn field, are, in fact. Nature's, 
carriers to disperse and perpetuate her blessings. In like 
manner, the beauties and fine thoughts of ancient and 
obsolete authors are caught up by these flights of preda- 
tory writers, and cast forth again to flourish and bear 
fruit in a remote and distant tract of time. Many of 
their works, also, undergo a kind of metemphsychosis, and 
spring up under new forms. What was formerly a pon- 
derous history, revives in the shape of a romance — an old 
legend changes into a modern play — and a sober philoso- 
phical treatize furnishes the body for a whole series of 
bouncing and sparkling essays. Thus it is in the clear- 
ing of our American woodlands ; where we burn down 
a forest of stately pines, a progeny of dwarf oaks start up 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 185 

in their place : and we never see the prostrate trunk of 
tree mouldering into soil, but it gives birth to a whole tribe 
of fungi. 

Let us not, then, lament over the decay and obli- 
vion into which ancient writers descend; they do but 
submit to the great law of nature, which declares that 
all sublunary shapes of matter shall be limited in their 
duration, but which decrees, also, that their elements 
shall never perish. Generation after generation, both 
in animal and vegetable life, passes away, but the vital 
principle is transmitted to posterity, and the species con- 
tinue to flourish. Thus, also, do authors beget authors, 
and having produced a numerous progeny, in a good old 
age they sleep with their fathers, that is to say, with the au- 
thors who preceded them — and from whom they had stolen. 

Whilst I was indulging in these rambling fancies, I had 
leaned my head against a pile of reverend folios. Whe- 
ther it was owing to the soporific emanations from these 
works ; or to the profound quiet of the room ; or to the 
lassitude arising from much wandering ; or to an unlucky 
habit of napping at improper times and places, with which 
I am grievously afflicted, so it was, that I fell into a 
doze. Still, however, my imagination continued busy, 
and indeed the same scene remained before my mind's 
eye, only a little changed in some of the details. I dreamt 
that the chamber was still decorated with the portraits 
of ancient authors, but the number was increased. The 
long tables had disappeared, and in place of the sage ma- 
gi, I beheld a ragged, threadbare throng, such as may be 
seen plying about the great repository of cast-off clothes, 
Monmouth Street. Whenever they seized upon a book, 
by one of those incongruities common to dreams, me- 
thought it turned into a garment of foreign or antique 
fashion, with which they proceeded to equip themselves. 
1 noticed, however, that no one pretended to clothe him- 
self from any particular suit, but took a sleeve from one, 
a cape from another, a skirt from a third, thus decking 
himself out piecemeal, while some of his original rags 
would peep out from among his borrowed finery. 

There was a portly, rosy, well-fed parson, whom I 
observed ogling several mouldy polemical writers through 
an eye-glass. He soon contrived to slip on the volumi- 
nous mantle of one of the old fathers, and having pur- 
loined the gray beard of another, endeavoured to look 
exceedingly wise but the smirking conunon place of his 

16* 



186 BEAUTIES OF 

countenance set at nought all the trappings ofwTSt!otti. 
One sickly looking gentleman was busied embroidering 
a very flimsy garment with gold thread drawn out of 
several old court dresses of the reign of Glueen Elizabeth. 
Another had trimmed himself magnificently from an il- 
luminated manuscript, had stuck a nodegay in his bosom, 
culled from " The Paridise of dainty devices," and hav- 
ing put Sir Philip Sidney's hat on one side of his head, 
strutted off with an exquisite air of vulgar elegance. A 
third, who was but of puny dimensions, had bolstered 
himself out bravely vdth the spoils from several obscure 
tracts of philosophy, so that he had a very imposing front ; 
but he was lamentably tattered in rear, and I perceived 
that he had patched his small-clothes with scraps of parch- 
ment from a Latin author. 

There were some well dressed gentleman, it is true, 
who only helped themselves to a gem or so, which sparkled 
among their own ornaments, without eclipsing them. 
Some, too, seemed to contemplate the costumes of the old 
writers, merely to imbibe their principles of taste, and 
to catch their air and spirit ; but I grieve to say, that 
too many were apt to array themselyes from top to toe, 
in the patchwork manner I have mentioned. I shall 
not omit to speak of one genius, in drab breeches and 
gaiters, and an Arcadian hat, who had a violent propen- 
sity to the pastoral, but whose rural wanderings had been 
confined to the classic haunts of Primrose Hill, and the 
solitudes of the Regent's Park. He had decked himself 
in wreaths and ribands from all the old pastoral poets, 
and hanging his head on one side, went about with a 
antastacal lack-a-daisical air, " babbling about green 
fields." But the personage that most struck my atten- 
tion was a pragmatical old gentleman, in clerical robes 
with a remarkably large and square, but bald head. He 
entered the room wheezing and puffing, elbowed his way 
through the throng, with a look of sturdy self-confidence, 
and having laid hands upon a thick Greek quarto, cla'/- 
ped it upon his head, and swept majestically away in a 
formidable frizzled wig. 

In the height of this literary masquerade, a cry sud- 
denly resounded from every side, of " Thieves ! thieves !" 
I looked, and lo ! the portraits about the wall became ani- 
mated! The old authors thrust out, first a head, then a 
shoulder from the canvass, looked down curiously, for an 
instant, upon the motley throng, and then descended, with 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



187 



fury in their eyes, to claim their rifled property. The 
scene of scampering and hubbub that ensued baffles all 
description. The unhappy culprits endeavoured in vain 
to escape with the plunder. On one side might be seen 
half a dozen old monks, stripping a modern professor ; on 
another, there was sad devastation carried into the ranks 
of modern dramatic writers. Beaumont and Fletcher, 
side by side, raged round the field like Castor and Pollux, 
and sturdy Ben Jonson enacted more wonders than when 
a volunteer with the army in Flanders. As to the dapper 
little compiler of farragos, mentioned some time since, he 
had arrayed himself in as many patches and colours as 
Harlequin, and there was as fierce a contention of claim- 
ants about him, as about the dead body of Patroclus. I 
was grieved to see many men, to whom I had been accus- 
tomed to look upon with awe and reverence, fain to steal 
ofif with scarce a rag to cover their nakedness. Just then 
my eye was caught by the pragmatical old gentleman in 
the Greek frizzled wig, who was scrambling away sore af- 
frighted with half a score of authors in full cry after him. 
They were close upon his haunches; in a twinkling ofif 
went his wig; at every turn some strip of raiment was 
peeled away; until in a few moments, from his domineer- 
ing pomp, he shrunk into a little, pursy, "chopp'd bald 
shot," and made his exit with only a few tags and bags 
fluttering at his back. 

There was something so ludicrous in the catastrophe 
of this learned Theban, that I burst into an immoderate 
fit of laughter, which broke the whole illusion. The tu- 
mult and the scuffle were at an end. The chamber resu- 
med its usual appearance. The old authors shrunk back 
into their picture-frames, and hung in shadowy solemnity 
along the walls. In short, I found myself wide awake in 
my corner, with the whole assemblage of bookworms gazing 
at me with astonishment. Nothing of the dream had been 
real but my burst of laughter, a sound never before heard 
in that grave sanctuary, and so abhorrent to the ears of 
wisdom, as to electrify the fraternity. 

The librarian now stepped up to me, and demanded 
whether I had a card of admission. At first I did not 
comprehend him, but I soon found that the library was a 
kind of literary "preserve,'' subject to game laws, and that 
no one must presume to hunt there without special license 
and permission. In a word, I stood convicted of being an 
airant poacher, and was glad to make a precipitate retreat, 



188 BEAUTIES OF 

lest I should have a whole pack of authors let loose upon 
me. 



A DUTCH SETTLER'S DREAM. 

And the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream — and lo, the 
good St. Nicholas came riding over the tops of the trees 
in that selfsame v^aggon wherein he brings his yearly 
presents to children; and he came and descended hard by 
where the heroes of Communipaw had made their late 
repast. And the shrewd Van Kortland knew him by his 
broad hat, his long pipe, and the resemblance which he 
bore to the figure on the brow of the Goede Vrouw. And 
he lit his pipe by the fire, and he sat himself down and 
smoked ; and as he smoked, the smoke from his pipe 
ascended into the air and spread like a cloud overhead. 
And the sage Oloffe bethought him, and he hastened and 
climbed up to the top of one of the tallest trees, and saw 
that the smoke spread over a great extent of country; and 
as he considered it more attentively, he fancied that the 
great volume of smoke assumed a variety of marvellous ( 
forms, where in dim obscurity he saw shadowed out pa- I 
laces and domes and lofty spires, all of which lasted but a S 
moment, and then faded away, until the whole rolled oflT, i 
and nothing but the green woods were left. And when i 
St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe, he twisted it in his hat- i 
band, and laying his finger beside his nose, gave the as- 'i 
tonished Van Kortlandt a very significant look ; then 
mounting his waggon, he returned over the tree tops and 
disappeared. i 

And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly in- I 
structed, and he aroused his companions and related to 
them his dream : and interpreted it, that it was the will 
of St. Nicholas that they should settle down and build the 
city here. And that the smoke of the pipe was a type 
how vast should be the extent of the city; inasmuch as the 
volumes of its smoke should spread over a vast extent of 
country. And they all with one voice assented to this 
interpretation excepting Mynheer Tenbroeck, who declared 
the meaning to be that it should be a city wherein a little 
fire should occasion a great smoke, or in other words, a 
very vapouring little city — both which interpretations have 
strangely come to pass. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 189 



THE PRIDE OP THE VILLAGE. 

In the course of an excursion through one of the remote 
counties of England, I had struck into one of those crosi 
roads that lead through the more secluded parts of the 
country, and stopped one afternoon at a village, the situ- 
ation of which was beautifully rural and retired. There 
was an air of primitive simplicity about its inhabitants, 
not to be found in the villages which lie on the great 
coach roads. I determined to pass the night there, and 
having taken an early dinner, strolled out to enjoy the 
neighbouring scenery. 

IVIy ramble, as is usually the case with travellers, soon 
led me to the church, which stood at a little distance 
from the village. Indeed, it was an object of some curi- 
osity, its old tower being completely overrun with ivy, so 
that only here and there a jutting buttress, an angle of 
gray wall, or a fantastically carved ornament, peered 
through the verdant covering. It was a lovely evening. 
The early part of the day had been dark and showery, 
but in the afternoon it had cleared up; and though sul- 
len clouds still huncr over head, yet there was a broad 
tract of golden sky in the west, from which the setting 
sun gleamed through the dripping leaves, and lit up all 
nature into a melancholy smile. It seemed like the part- 
ing hour of a good Christian, smiling on the sins and 
sorrows of the world, and giving, in the serenity of his 
decline, an assurance that he will rise again in glory. 

I had seated myself on a half sunken tombstone, and 
was musing, as one is apt to do at this sober-thoughted 
hour, on past scenes and early friends — on those who 
were distant and those who were dead — and indulging 
in that kind of melancholy fancying, which has in it 
something sweeter even than pleasure. Every now and 
then, the stroke of a bell from the neighbouring tower 
fell on my ear; its tones were in unison with the scene, 
and, instead of jarring, chimed in with my feelings; and 
it was some time before I recollected, that it must be toll- 
ing the knell of some new tenant of the tomb. 

Presently I saw a funeral train moving across the 
village green ; it wound slowly along a lane ; was lost, 
And re-appeared through the breaks of the hedges, until 
it passed the place where I was sitting. The pall was 



190 BEAUTIES OP 

supported by young girls, dressed in white; and another, 
about the age of seventeen, walked before, bearing a chap- 
let of white flowers; a token that the deceased was a 
young and unmarried female. The corpse was followed 
by the parents. They were a venerable couple of the 
better order of peasantry. The father seemed to repress 
his feelings; but his fixed eye, contracted brow, and deep- 
ly-furrowed face, showed the struggle that was passing 
within. His wife hung on his arm, and wept aloud 
with the convulsive bursts of a mother's sorrow. 

I followed the funeral into the church. The bier was 
placed in the centre aisle, and the chaplet of white flowers, 
with a pair of white gloves, were hung over the seat ! 
which the deceased had occupied. 

Every one knows the soul-subduing pathos of funeral 
service ; for who is so fortunate as never to have followed^ 
some one he has loved to the tomb 1 but when performed »■ 
over the remains of innocence and beauty, thus laid low 1 
in the bloom of existence — what can be more affecting'? ' 
At that simple, but most solemn consignment of the body ^ 
to the grave — "Earth to earth — ashes to ashes — dust to • 
dust!" — the tears of the youthful companions of the de- ' 
ceased flowed unrestrained. The father still seemed to ' 
struggle with his feelings, and to comfort himself with 
the assurance, that the dead are blessed which die in the 
Lord; but the mother only thought of her child as a 
flower of the field cut down and withered in the midst 
of its sweetness: she was like Rachel, " mourning over 
her children, and would not be comforted" 

On returning to the inn I learnt the whole storv of 
the deceased. It was a simple one, and such as has of- 
ten been told. She had been the beauty and pride of the 
village. Her father had once been an oppulent farmer, 
but was reduced in circumstances. This was an only 
child, and brought up entirely at home, in the simplicity 
of rural life. She had been the pupil of the village pas- 
tor, the favourite of his little flock. The good man watch- 
ed over her education with paternal care ; it was limited, 
and suitable to the sphere in which she was to move; 
for he only sought to make her an ornament to her sta- 
tion in life, not to raise her above it. The tenderness 
and indulgence of her parents, and the exemption from 
all ordinary occupations, had fostered a natural grace and 
delicacy of character, that accorded with the fragile love- 
liness of her form. She appeared like some tender plant 



WASHIIVGTON IRVING. 191 

of the garden, blooming accidentally amid the hardier 
natives of the fields. 

The superiority of her charms was felt and acknow- 
ledged by her companions, but without envy ; for it was 
surpassed by the unassuming gentleness and winning 
kindness of her manners. It might be truly said of her : 

" This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever 
Ran on the green-sward : nothing she does or seems. 
But smacks of something greater than herself; 
Too noble for this place." 

The village was one of those sequestered spots, which 
still retain some vestiges of old English customs. It 
had its rural festivals and holyday pastimes, and still 
kept up some foint observance of the once popular rites 
of May. These, indeed, had been promoted by its pre- 
sent pastor ; who was a lover of old customs, and one of 
those simple Christians that think their mission fulfilled 
by promoting joy on earth and good- will among man- 
kind. Under his auspices the may-pole stood from year 
to year in the centre of the village green : on May-day it 
was decorated with garlands and streamers ; and a queen 
or lady of the May was appointed, as in former tunes, to 
preside at the sports, and distribute the prizes and re- 
wards. The picturesque situation of the village, and the 
fancifulness of its rustic fetes, would often attract the 
notice of casual visiters. Among these, on one May-day 
was a young officer, whose regiment had been recently 
quartered in the neighbourhood. He was charmed with 
the native taste that pervaded this village pageant; but, 
above all, with the dawning loveliness of the queen of 
May. It was the village favourite, who was crowned 
vnth flowers, and blushing and smiling in all the beauti- 
ful confusion of girlish diffidence and delicrht. The art- 
lessness of rural habits enabled him readily to make her 
acquaintance; he gradually won his way into her inti- 
macy ; and paid his court to her in that unthinking way 
in which young officers are too apt to trifle with rustic 
simplicity. 

There was nothing in his advances to startle or alarm. 
He never even talked of love: but there are modes of 
making it more eloquent than language, and which con- 
vey it subtilely and irresistibly into the heart. The 
beam of the eye, the tone of the voice, the thousand ten- 
dernesses wliich emanate from every word, and look, and 



192 BEAUTIES OF 

action — these form the true eloquence of love, and can 
almost be felt and understood, but never described. Can 
we wonder that they should readily win a heart young, 
guileless, and susceptible'? As to her, she loved almost 
unconsciously; she scarcely inquired what was the grow- 
ing passion that was absorbing every thought and feeling 
or what were to be its consequences. She, indeed, look- 
ed not to the future. When present, his looks and words 
occupied her whole attention ; when absent, she thought, 
but of what had passed at their recent interview. She 
would wander with him through the green lanes and ru- 
ral scenes of the vicinity. He taught her to sec new beau- 
ties in nature; he talked in the language of polite and 
cultivated life, and breathed into her ear the witcheries of 
romance and poetry. 

Perhaps there could not have been a passion, between 
the sexes, more pure than this innocent girPs. The gal- 
lant figure of her youthful admirer, and the splendour of 
his military attire, might at first have charmed her eye ; 
but it was not these that had captivated her heart. Her 
attachment had something in it of idolatry. She looked 
up to him as to a being of a superior order. She felt in 
his society the enthusiasm of a mind naturally delicate and 
poetical, and now first awakened to a keen perception of 
the beautiful and grand. Of the sordid distinctions of 
rank and fortune she thought nothing ; it was the difference 
of intellect, of demeanour, of manners, from those of the 
rustic society to which she had been accustomed, that 
elevated him in her opinion. She would Usten to him 
with charmed ear and downcast look of mute delight, and 
her cheek would mantle with enthusiasm : or if ever she 
ventured a shy glance of timid admiration, it was as quick- 
ly withdrawn, and she would sigh and blush at the idea 
of her comparative unworthyness. 

Her lover was equally impassioned; but his passion was 
mingled with feelings of a coarser nature. He had begun 
the connexion in levity ; for he had often heard his bro- 
ther officers boast of their village conquests, and thought 
some triumph of the kind necessary to his reputation as a 
man of spirit. But he was too full of youthful fervour. 
His heart had not yet been rendered sufficiently cold and 
selfish by a wandering and a dissipated Ufe : it caught fire 
from the very flame it sought to kindle; and before he 
was aware of the nature of his situation, he became really 
in love. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 193 

What was he to do'? There were the old obstacles 
which so incessantly occur in these heedless attachments. 
His rank in life — the prejudices of titled connexions — 
his dependence upon a proud and unyielding father — all 
forbade him to think of matrimony : — but when he looked 
down upon this innocent being, so tender and confiding, 
there was a purity in her manners, a blamelessness in her 
life, and a beseeching modesty in her looks that awed 
down every licentious feeling. In vain did he try to for- 
tify himself by a thousand heartless examples of men of 
fashion ; and to chill the glow of generous sentiment, with 
that cold derisive levity with which he had heard them 
talk of female virtue ; whenever he came into her presence, 
she was still surrounded by that mysterious, but impres- 
sive charm of virgin purity, in whose hallowed sphere no 
guilty thought can live. 

The sudden arrival of orders for the regiment to repair 
to the continent completed the confusion of his mind. He 
remained for a short time in a state of the most painful ir- 
resolution ; he hesitated to communicate the tidings, until 
the day of marching was at hand ; when he gave her the 
intelligence in the course of an evening ramble. 

The idea of parting had never before occurred to her. 
It broke at once upon her dream of felicity ; she looked 
upon it as a sudden and insurmountable evil, and wept 
with the guileless simplicity of a child. He drew her to 
his bosom, and kissed the tears from her soft cheek ; nor 
did he meet with a repulse; for there are moments of 
mirgled sorrow and tenderness, which hallow the caresses 
of atfection. He was naturally impetuous ; and the sight 
of beauty, apparently yielding in his arms ; the confidence 
of his power over her ; and the dread of losing her for 
ever; all conspired to overwhelm his better feelings — he 
ventured to propose that she should leave her home, and 
be the companion of his fortunes. 

He was quite a novice in seduction, and blushed and 
faltered at his own baseness ; but so innocent of mind 
was his intended victim, that she was at first at a loss to 
comprehend his meaning ; and why she should leave her 
native village and the humble roof of her parents'? When 
at last the nature of his proposal flashed upon her pure 
mind, the effect was withering. She did not weep — 
she did not break forth into reproach — she said not a word 
— but she shrunk back aghast as from a viper ; gave him a 
look of anguish that pierced to his very soul; and clasp- 

17 



194 BEAUTIES OF 

ing her hands in agony, fled, as if for refbge, to her fa- 
ther's cottage. 

The officer retired, confounded, humiliated, and repen- 
tant. It is uncertain what might have been the result 
of the conflict of his feelings, had not his thoughts been 
diverted by the bustle of departure. New scenes, new 
pleasures, and new companions, soon dissipated his self- 
reproach, and stifled his tenderness; yet, amidst the stir 
of camps, the revelries of garrisons, the array of armies, 
and even the din of battles, his thoughts would sometimes 
steal back to the scene of rural quiet and village simpli- 
city — the white cottage — the footpath along the silver 
brook and up the hawthorn hedge, and the little village 
maid loitering along it, leaning on his arm, and listening 
to him with eyes beaming with unconscious affection. 

The shock which the poor girl had received, in the 
destruction of all her ideal world, had indeed been cruel. 
Paintings and hysterics, had at first shaken her tender 
frame, and were succeeded by a settled and pining melan- 
choly. She had beheld from her window the march of 
the departing troops. She had seen her faithless lover 
borne off", as if in triumph, amidst the sound of drum and 
trumpet, and the pomp of arms. She strained a last ach- 
ing gaze after him, as the morning sun glittered about his 
figure, and his plume waved in the breeze : he passed 
away like a bright vision from her sight and left her all 
in darkness. 

It would be trite to dwell on the particulars of her 
after-story. It was like other tales of love melancholy. 
She avoided society, and w^andered out alone in the walks 
she had most frequented with her lover. She sought, 
like the stricken deer, to weep in silence and loneUness, 
and brood over the barbed sorrow that rankled in her 
soul. Sometimes she would be seen late of an evening 
sitting in the porch of the village church ; and the milk- 
maids, returning from the fields, would now and then 
overhear her, singing some plaintive ditty in the haw- 
thorn walk. She became fervent in her devotions at 
church: and as the old people saw her approach, so 
wasted away, yet with a hectic bloom, and that hallowed 
air which melancholy diflS'uses round the form, they would 
make way for her, as for a thing spiritual, and, looking 
after her would shake their heads in gloomy foreboding. 

She felt a conviction that she was hastening to the 
tomb, but looked forward to it as a place of rest. The 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 195 

silver cord that had bound her to existence was loosed, 
and there seemed to be no more pleasure under the sun. 
If ever her gentle bosom had entertained resentment 
against her lover it was extinguished. She was incap- 
able of angry passions ; and in a moment of saddened ten- 
derness, she penned him a farewell letter. It was couch- 
ed in the simplest language ; but touching from its very 
simplicity. She told him that she was dying, and did 
not conceal from him that his conduct was the cause. 
She even depicted the sufferings which she had experi- 
enced ; but concluded with saying, that she could not die 
in peace, until she had sent him her forgiveness and her 
blessing, 

By degrees her strength declined, that she could no 
longer leave the cottage. She could only totter to the 
-window, where, propped up in her chair, it was her en- 
joyment to sit all day and look out upon the landscape. 
Still she uttered no complaint, nor imparted to any one 
the malady that was preyimr upon her heart. She never 
even mentioned her love: s name ; but would lay her 
head on her mother's bosom and weep in silence. Her 
poor parent* nung in mute anxiety, over this fading 
blossom of tljtir nopes, still flattering themselves that it 
might again revive to freshness, and that the bright un- 
earthly bloom which sometimes flushed her cheek might 
be the promise of returning health. 

In this way she was seated between them one Sunday 
afternoon, her hands were clasped in theirs, the lattice 
was thrown open, and the soft air that stole in brought 
with it the fragrance of the clustering honeysuckle which 
her own hands had trained round the window. 

Her father had just been reading a chapter in the Bible: 
it spoke of the vanity of worldly things and of the joys 
of heaven: it seemed to have diffused comfort and se- 
renity through her bosom. Her eye was fixed on the 
distant village church ; the bell had tolled for the evening 
service; the last villager was lagging into the porch 
and every thing had sunk into that hallowed stillness 

Eeculiar to the day of rest. Her parents were gazing on 
er with yearning hearts. Sickness and sorrow, which 
pass so roughly over some faces, had given her's the ex- 
pression of a seraph's. A tear trembled in her soft blue 
eye. Was she thinking of her faithless lover '? — or were 
her thoughts wandering to that ti'istant church yard, into 
whose bosom she might soon be gathered 1 



196 BEAUTIES OP 

Suddenly the clang of hoofs was heard — a horseman 
galloped to the cottage —he dismounted before the win- 
dow — the poor girl gave a faint exclamation, and sunk 
back in her chair; — it was her repentant lover! He 
rushed into the house, and flew to clasp her to his bo- 
som ; but her wasted form — her death-like countenance 
— so wan, yet so lovely in its desolation, — smote him to 
the soul, and he threw himself in an agony at her feet. 
She was too faint to rise — She attempted to extend- her 
trembling hand — her lips moved as if she spoke, but no 
word was articulated — she looked down upon him with 
a smile of unutterable tenderness, — and closed her eyes 
for ever ! 

Such are the particulars which I gathered of this vil- 
lage story. They are but scanty, and I am conscious 
have little novelty to recommend them. In the present 
rage also for strange incident and high-seasoned narrative, 
they may appear trite and insignificant, but they inter- 
ested me strongly at the time ; and, taken in connexion 
with the affecting ceremony which I just witnessed, left 
a deeper impression on my mind than many circumstan- 
ces of a more striking nature. I have passed through 
the place since, and visited the church again, from a bet- 
ter motive than mere curiosity. It was a wintry even- 
ing ; the trees were stripped of their foliage ; the church- 
yard looked naked and mournful, and the wind rustled 
coldly through the dry grass. Evergreens, however, had 
been planted about the grave of the village favourite, and 
osiers were bent over it to keep the turf uninjured. 

The church door was open, and I stepped in. There 
hung the chaplet of flowers and the gloves as on the day 
of the funeral : the flowers were withered, it is true, but 
care seemed to have been taken that no dust should soil 
their whiteness. I have seen many monuments, where 
art has exhausted its powers to awaken the sympathy of 
the spectator ; but I have met with none that spoke more 
touchingly to my heart, than this simple, but delicate 
memento of departed innocence. 



DOMESTIC SCENE. 

The family meeting was warm and affectionate ; as the 
evening was far advanced, the Squire would not permit 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 197 

US to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at once 
to the company, which was assembled in a large old-fa- 
shioned hall. It was composed of different branches of 
a numerous family connexion, where there were the 
usual proportion of old uncles and aunts, comfortable 
married .dames, superannuated spinsters, blooming coun- 
try cousins, half-fledged striplings, and bright-eyed board- 
ing school hoydens. They were variously occupied ; 
some at a round game of cards ; others conversing around 
the fire-place ; at one end of the hall was a group of the 
young folks, some nearly grown up, others of a more ten- 
der and budding age, fully engrossed by a merry game ; 
and a profusion of wooden horses, penny trumpets, and 
tattered dolls about the floor, showed traces of a troop of 
little fairy beings, who having frolicked through a happy 
day, had been carried off to slumber through a peaceful 
night. 



MASTER SIMON. 

The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the 
humours of an eccentric personage whom Mr. Brace- 
bridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of 
Master Simon. He was a tight brisk little man, with the 
air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped like 
the bill of a parrot; his face slightly pitted with the small 
pox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bitten 
leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quickness and 
vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery of expres- 
sion that was irresistible. He was evidently the wit of 
the family, dealing very much in sly jokes and innuen- 
does vfith. the ladies, and making infinite merriment by 
harpings upon old themes; which, unfortunately, my ig- 
norance of the family chronicles did not permit me to 
enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight during supper 
to keep a young girl next him in a continual agony of 
stifled laughter, in spite of her awe of the reproving looks 
of her mother, who sat opposite. Indeed, he was the 
idol of the younger part of the company, who laughed at 
every thing he said or did, and at every turn of his coun- 
tenance. I could not wonder at it; for he must have 
been a miracle of accomplishments in their eyes. He 
could imitate Punch and Judy ; make an old woman of 

17* 



198 BEAUTIES OF 

his hand, with the assistance of a burnt cork and pocket 
handkerchief: and cut an orange into such a ludicrous 
caricature, that the young folks were ready to die with 
laughing. 



PERSEVERANCE. 

Like as a mighty grampus, who, though assailed and 
buffeted by roaring waves and brawling surges, still keeps 
on an undeviating course; and though overwhelmed by 
boisterous billows, still emerges from the troubled deep, 
spouting and blowing with tenfold violence — so did the 
inflexible Peter pursue, unwavering, his determined ca- 
reer, and rise contemptuous above the clamours of the 
rabble. 



A DOLEFUL DISASTER OF ANTHONY 

THE TRUMPETER. 

Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his beloved 
city, in despite even of itself, he called upon him his trusty 
Van Corlear, who was his right-hand man in all times of 
emergency. Him did he adjure to take his war-denoun- 
cing trumpet, and mounting his horse, to beat up the 
country, night and day — sounding the alarm along the 
pastoral borders of the Bronx — startling the wild soli- 
tudes of Croton — arousing the rugged yeomanry of Wee- 
hawk and Hoboken — the mighty men of battle of Tap- 
pan Bay*: — and the brave boys of Tarry town and Sleepy 
hollow — together with all the other Avaniors of the coun- 
try round about; charging them one and all, to sling their 
powder horns, shoulder their fowling-pieces, and march 
merrily down to the INIanhattoes. 

Now there was nothing in all the world, the divine sex 
excepted, that Anthony Van Corlear loved better than 
errands of this kind. So, just stopping to take a lusty 



* A corruption of Top paun ; so called from a tribe of Indians 
which boasted of 150 fighting men. See Ogilvie's History. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 199 

dinner, and bracing to his side his junk-bottle, well charged 
with heart-inspiring Hollands, he issued jolUly from the 
city gate that looked out upon what is at present called 
Broad-way; sounding as usual a farewell strain, that 
rung in sprightly echoes through the winding streets of 
New-Amsterdam — Alas! never more were they to be 
gladdened by the melody of their favourite trumpeter ! 

It was a dark and stormy night when the good Anthony 
arrived at the famous creek (sagely denominated Har- 
lem river) which separates the island of Manna-hata from 
the main land. The wind was high, the elements were 
in an uproar, and no Charon could be found to ferry the 
adventurous sounder of brass across the water. For a 
short time he vapoured like an impatient ghost upon the 
brink, and then, bethinking himself of the urgency of his 
errand, took a hearty embrace of his stone bottle, swore 
most valorously, that he would svdm across, en spijt den 
duyvel (in spite of the devil !) and daringly plunged into 
the stream. — Luckless Anthony ! scarce had he bufteted 
half-way over, when he was observed to struggle violently, 
as if battUng with the spirit of the waters — instinctively 
he put his trumpet to his mouth, and giving a vehement 
blast, sunk for ever to the bottom ! 

Thepotentclangour of his trumpet, like the ivory horn 
of the renowned Paladin Orlando, when expiring in the 
glorious field of Roncesvalles, rung far and wide through 
the country, alarming the neighbours round, who hurried 
in amazement to the spot. — Here an old Dutch burgher, 
famed for his veracity, and who had been a witness of the 
fact, related to them the melancholy affair; with the fear- 
ful addition (to which I am slow of giving belief,) that 
he saw the duyvel, in the shape of a huge moss-bonker, 
seize the sturdy Anthony by the leg, and drag him be- 
neath the waves. Certain it is, the place, with the ad- 
joining promontory, which projects into the Hudson, has 
been called Spijt den duyvel or Spiking duyvel ever since, 
— the restless ghost of the unfortunate Anthony still 
haunts the surrounding solitudes, and his trumpet has 
often been heard by the neighbours, of a stormy night, 
mingling with the howling of the blast. Nobody ever 
attempts to swim over the creek after dark ; on the con- 
trary, a bridge has been built to guard against such me- 
lancholy accidents in future — and as to moss-bonkers, 
they are held in such abhorrence that no true Dutchman 



200 BEAUTIES OF 

will admit them to his table, "who loves good fish, and 
hates the devil. 

Snich was the end of Anthony Van Corlear — a man 
desen ing of a better fate. He hved roundly and sound- 
ly, like a true and jolly bachelor, until the day of his 
death ; but though he was never married, yet did he leave 
behind, some two or three dozen children, in different 
parts of the country — fine chubby, brawling flatulent 
Utile urchins, from whom, if legends speak true (and they 
are not apt to he,) did descend the innumerable race of 
editors, who people and defend this country, and who are 
bountiluUy paid by the people for keeping up a constant 
alarm — and makijag them miserable. Would that they 
inherited the worth, as they do the wind, of their re- 
nowned progenitor I 



.1 



The Grief of Peter Stuytesant. 

The tidings of this lamentable catastrophe imparted a 
severer pang to the bosom of Peter Stuyvesant than did 
even the invasion of his beloved Amsterdam. It came 
ruthlessly home to those sweet affections that grow close 
around the heart, and are nourished by its warmest cur- 
rent. As some lone pilgrim wandering in trackless 
wastes while the tempest whistles through his locks, and 
dreary night is gathering around, sees stretched, cold and 
lifeless, his faithful dog — the sole companion of his jour- 
neying — who had shared his soUtary meal, and so often 
licked his hand in humble gratitude ; — so did the gener- 
ous-hearted hero of the ]\lanhattoes contemplate the un- 
timely end of his faithful Anthony. He had been the 
humble attendant of his footsteps — he had cheered him 
in many a heavy hour, by his honest gaiety ; and had 
followed him in loyalty and aJfection, through many a 
scene of direful peril and mishap. He was gone for ever 
— and that too at a moment when every mongrel cur 
seemed skulking from his side. 



The dignified Retirement and mortal Surrender of Peter 
the Headstrong. 

Thts tnen have I concluded this great historical enter- 
prise; but, before I lay aside my weary pen, there yet 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 201 

remains to be performed one pious duty. If among the 
variety of readers that may peruse this book, there should 
haply be found any of those souls of true nobility, which 
glow with celestial fire, at the history of the generous and 
the brave, they will doubtless be anxious to know the fate 
of the gallant Peter Stuyvesant. To gratify one such 
sterling heart of gold I would go more lengths than to 
instruct the cold-blooded curiosity of a whole fraternity of 
philosophers. 

No sooner had that high-mettled cavalier signed the ar- 
ticles of capitulation, than, determined not to witness the 
humiliation of his favourite city, he turned his back on its 
walls, and made a growling retreat to his Bouwery, or 
country-seat, which was situated about two miles off; 
where he passed the remainder of his days in patriarchal 
retirement. There he enjoyed that tranquillity of mind 
which he had never known amid the distracting cares of 
government; and tasted the sweets of absolute and uncon- 
trolled authority, which his factious subjects had so often 
dashed with the bitterness of opposition. 

No persuasions could ever induce him to revisit the city 
— on the contrary, he would always have his great arm- 
chair placed with its back to the windows which looked in 
that direction ; until a thick grove of trees planted by his 
own hand grew up and formed a screen that effectually ex- 
cluded it. from the prospect. He railed continually at the 
degenerate innovations and improvements introduced by 
the conquerors — forbade a word of their detested language 
to be spoken in his family, a prohibition readily obeyed, 
since none of the household could speak any thing but 
Dutch — and even ordered a fine avenue to be cut down 
in front of his house, because it consisted of EngUsh cherry 
trees. 

The same incessant vigilance, that blazed forth when he 
had a vast province under his care, now showed itself with 
equal vigour, though in narrower limits. He patrolled 
with unceasing watchfulness around the boundaries of his 
little territory ; repelled every encroachment with intrepid 
promptness ; punished every vagrant depredation upon his 
orchard or his farm yard with inflexible severity ; and con- 
ducted every stray hog or cow in triumph to the pound- 
But to the indigent neighbour, the friendless stranger, or 
the weary wanderer, his spacious door was ever open, and 
his capacious fire-place, that emblem of his own warm and 
generous heart, had always a corner to receive and cherish 



202 BEAUTIES OF 

them. There was an exception to this, I must confess, in case 
the ill-starred applicant was an Englishman or a Yankee; 
to whom, though he might extend the hand of assistance, 
he could never be brought to yield the rights of hospitality. 
Nay, if peradventure some straggling merchant of the east, 
should stop at his door, with his cart load of tin ware or 
wooden bowls, the fiery Peter would issue forth like a giant 
from his castle, and make such a furious clattering among 
his pots and kettles, that the vender of " notions^' was fain 
to betake himself to instant flight. 

His ancient suit of regimentals, worn threadbare by the 
brush, were carefully hung up in the state bedchamber, and 
regularly aired the first fair day of every month; and his 
cocked hat and trusty sword were suspended in grim re- 
pose over the parlour mantlepiece, forming supporters to a 
full length portrait of the renowned Admiral Von Tromp. 
In his domestic empire he maintained strict discipline, and 
a well organized despotic government ; but though his own 
will was the supreme law, yet the good of his subjects was 
his constant object. He watched over, not merely their 
immediate comforts, but their morals, and their ultimate 
welfare ; for he gave them abundance of excellent admoni- 
tion, nor could any of them complain, that, when occasion 
required, he was by any means niggardly in bestowing 
wholesome correction. 

The good old Dutch festivals, those periodical demon- 
strations of an overflowing heart and a thankful spirit, 
which are falling into sad disuse among my fellow-citizens, 
were faithfully observed in the mansion of Governor Stuy- 
vesant. New-year was truly a day of open-handed libe- 
rality, of jocund revelry, and warm-hearted congratulation 
— when the bosom seemed to swell with genial good- 
fellowship ; and the plenteous table was attended with an 
unceremonious freedom, and honest broad-mouthed mer- 
riment, unknown in these days of degeneracy and refine- 
ment. Paas and Pinxter were scrupulously observed 
throughout his dominions ; nor was the day of St. Nicholas 
suffered to pass by without making presents, hanging the 
stocking in the chimney, and complying with all its other 
ceremonies. 

Once a year, on the first day of April, he used to array 
himself in full regimentals, being the anniversary of his 
triumphal entry into New- Amsterdam, after the conquest 
of New-Sweden. This was always a kind of SaturnaHa 
among the domestics, when they considered themselves at 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 203 

liberty in some measure to say and do what they pleased ; 
for on this day their master was always observed to un- 
bend, and become exceedingly pleasant and jocose, sending 
the old gray-headed negroes on April fools' errands for 
pigeon's milk; not one of whom but allowed himself to be 
taken in, and humoured his old master's jokes as became a 
faithful and well disciplined dependant. Thus did he 
reign, happily and peacefully on his own land — injuring 
no man — envvino- no man — molested by no outward strifes 
— perplexed by no internal commotions ; and the mighty 
monarchs of the earth, who were vainly seeking to maintain 
peace, and promote the welfare of mankind, by war and 
desolation, would have done well to have made a voyage to 
the little island of Manna-hatta, and learned a lesson in 
government from the domestic economy of Peter Stuyve- 
sant. 

In process of time, however, the old governor, like ail 
other children of mortality, began to exhibit e\ident token& 
of decay. Like an aged oak, which, though it long has 
braved the fury of the elements, and still retains its gigan- 
tic proportions, yet begins to shake and groan with every 
blast — so the gallant Peter, though he still bore the port 
and semblance of what he was in the days of his hardi- 
hood and chivalry, yet did age and infimiity begin to sap 
the vigour of his frame ; but liis heart, that most uncon- 
querable citadel, still triumphed unsubdued. With match- 
less avidity would he listen to every article of intelligence 
concerning the battles between the English and Dutch. — 
Still would his pulse beat high whenever he heard of the 
victories of De Ruyter; and his countenance lower, and 
his eyebrows knit, when fortune turned in favour of the 
English. At length, as on a certain day, he had just 
smoked his fifth pipe, and was napping after dinner, in his 
arm-chair, conquering the whole British nation in his 
dreams, he was suddenly aroused by a fearful ringing of 
bells, rattling of drums, and roaring of cannon, that put all 
his blood in a ferment. But when he learned that these 
rejoicings were in honour of a great victory obtained by the 
combined English and French fleets over the brave De 
Ruyter and the younger Von Tromp, it went so much to 
his heart, that he took to his bed, and in less than three 
days was brought to death's door by a violent cholera mor- 
bus ! But even in this extremity he still displayed the un- 
conquerable spirit of Peter the Headstrong ; holding out, 
to the last gasp, with the most inflexible obstinacy, against 



204 BEAUTIES OP 

a whole army of old women, who were bent upon driving 
the enemy out of his bowels, after a true Dutch mode of 
defence, by inundating the seat of war with catnip and 
pennyroyal. 

While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution, 
news was brought him, that the brave Ruyter had suffered 
but little loss— had made good his retreat — and meant once 
more to meet the enemy m battle. The closing eye of the 
old warrior kindled at the words — he partly raised himself 
in bed — a flash of martial fire beamed across his visage — 
he clenched his withered hand as if he felt within his gripe 
that sword which waved in triumph before the walls of Fort 
Christina, and, giving a grim smile of exultation, sunk back 
upon his pillow, and expired. 

Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier, a loyal 
subject, an upright governor, and an honest Dutchman — 
who wanted only a few empires to desolate to have been 
immortalized as a hero ! 

His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the utmost 
grandeur and solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied 
of its inhabitants, who crowded in throngs to pay the last 
sad honours to their good old governor. Ail his sterling 
qualities rushed in full tide upon their recollections, while 
the memory of his foibles and his faults had expired with 
him. The ancient burghers contended who should have 
the privilege of bearing the pall — the populace strove who 
should walk nearest to the bier — and the melancholy pro- 
cession was closed by a number of gray-headed negroes, 
who had wintered and summered in the household of their 
departed master for the greater part of a century. 

With sad and gloomy countenances, the multitude ga- 
thered round the grave. They dwelt with mournful hearts 
on the sturdy virtues, the signal services, and the gallant 
exploits of the brave old worthy. They recalled vpith 
secret upbraidings, their own factious oppositions to his 
government — and many an ancient burgher, whose phleg- 
matic features had never been known to relax, nor his 
eyes to moisten, was now observed to puff a pensive pipe, 
and the big drop to steal down lus cheek — while he 
muttered, with affectionate accent and melancholy shake 
of the head — " Well den! — Hard-Koppig Peter ben gone 
at last." 

His remains were deposited in the family vault, under 
a chapel, which he had piously erected on his estate, and 
dedicated to St. Nicholas — and which stood on the iden« 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 205 

tical spot at present occupied by St. Mark's Church, where 
his tombstone is still to be seen. His estate, or Bouwery, 
as it was called, has ever continued in the possession of 
his descendants ; who by the uniform integrity of their 
conduct, and their strict adherence to the customs and 
manners that prevailed in the ^^ good old times," have 
proved themselves worthy of their illustrious ancestor. 
Many a time and oft has the farm been haunted at night 
by enterprising money diggers, in quest of pots of gold 
said to have been buried by the old governor — though I 
cannot learn that any of them have ever been enriched 
by their researches — and who is there, among my native- 
born fellow citizens, that does not remember, when in 
the mischievous days of his boyhood, he conceived it a 
great exploit to rob " Stuyvesant's orchard" on a holiday 
afternoon 1 

At this strong hold of the family may still be seen cer- 
tain memorials of the immortal Peter. His full length 
portrait frowns in martial terrors from the parlour wall — 
his cocked hat and sword still hang up in the best bed- 
room. His brimstone coloured breeches were for a long 
while suspended in the hall, until some years since they 
occasioned a dispute between a new married couple. And 
his silver mounted wooden leg is still treasured up in the 
store room as an invaluable relique. 



MORNING. 

And now the rosy blush of mom began to mantle in the 
east, and soon the rising sun, emerging from amidst gold- 
en and purple clouds, shed his blythesome rays on the 
tin weathercocks of Communipaw. It was that delicious 
season of the year, when nature, breaking fron the chill- 
ing thraldom of old winter, like a blooming damsel from 
the tyranny of a sordid father, threw herself, blushing 
with ten thousand charms, into the arms of youthful 
spring. Every tufted copse and blooming grove resound- 
ed with the notes of hymeneal love. The very insects, 
as they sipped the dew that gemmed the tender grass of 
the meadows, joined in the joyous epithalanium — the vir- 
gin bud timidly put forth its "blushes, " the voice of the 
turtle was heard in the land," and the heart of man dis 
solved away in tenderness. 

18 



206 BEAUTIES OF 

THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT OP HIS HIS- 
TORY OF NEW-YORK. 

I AM aware that I shall incur the censure of numerous 
very learned and judicious critics, for indulging too fre- 
quently in the bold excursive maimer of my favourite 
Herodotus. And to be candid, I have found it impos- 
sible always to resist the allurements of those pleasing 
episodes which, like flowery banks and fragrant bowers, 
beset the dusty road of the historian, and entice him to 
turn aside and refresh himself from his wayfaring. But 
I trust it will be found that I have always resumed my 
staff, and addressed myself to my weary journey with 
renovated spirits, so that both my readers and myself have 
been benefited by the relaxation. 

Indeed, though it has been my constant wish and 
uniform endeavour to rival Polybius himself, in observ- 
ing the requisite unity of History, yet the loose and 
unconnected manner in which many of the facts herein 
recorded have come to hand, rendered such an attempt 
3Xtreme]y difficult. This difficulty was likewise increased 
by one of the grand objects contemplated in my work, 
which was to trace the rise of sundry customs and institu- 
tions in this best of cities, and to compare them when in 
the germ of infancy with what they are in the present old 
age of knowledge and improvement. 

But the chief merit on which I value myself, and 
found my hopes for future regard, is that faithful vera- 
city with which I have compiled this invaluable little 
work ; carefully winnowing away the chaff of hypothe- 
sis, and discarding the tares of fable, which are too apt 
to spring up and choke the seeds of truth and whole- 
some knowledge. — Had I been anxious to captivate the 
superficial throng, who skim like swallows over the sur- 
face of literature ; or had I been anxious to commend my 
writings to the pampered palates of literary epicures — 
I might have availed myself of the obscurity that over- 
shadows the infant years of our city, to introduce a thou- 
sand pleasing fictions. But I have scrupulously discard- 
ed many a pithy tale and marvellous adventure, whereby 
the drowsy air of summer indolence might be enthralled :. 
jealously maintaining that fidelity, gravity, and dignity 
which should ever distinguish the historian. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. '2^U 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

I ROSS and prepared to leave the abbey. As I descended 
t!ie tlight of steps which lead into the body of the build- 
ing, my eye was caught by the shrine of Edward the 
Coniessor, and I ascended the small staircase that con- 
ducts to it, to take from thence a general survey of this 
wilderness of tombs. The shrine is elevated upon a 
kind of platform, and close around it are the sepulchres 
of various kings and queens. From this eminence the eye 
looks down between pillars and funeral trophies to the 
chapels and chambers below, crowded with tombs ; where 
warriors, prelates, courtiers and statesmen lie moul- 
dering in their " beds of darkness." Close by me stood 
the great chair of coronation, rudely carved of oak, in 
the barbarous taste oY a remote and gothic age. The 
scene seemed almost as if contrived, with theatrical arti- 
fice, to produce an effect on the beholder. Here was 
a type of the beginning and the end of human pomp and 
power; here it was literally but a step from the throne 
to the sepulchre. Would not one think that these in- 
congruous mementos had been gathered together as a les- 
son to Uving greatness 1 — to shew it, even in the moment 
of its proudest exaltation, the neglect and dishonour to 
which it must soon arrive ; how soon that crown which 
encircles its brow must pass away ; and it must he down 
in the dust and disgraces of the tomb, and be trampled 
upon by the feet of the meanest of the multitude. For, 
strange to tell, even the grave is here no longer a sanctuary. 
There is a shocking levity in some natures, which leads 
them to sport with awful and hallowed things, and there 
are base minds, which delight to revenge on the illustri- 
ous dead the abject homage and grovelling servility which 
they pay to the Uving. The coffin of Edward the Con- 
fessor has been broken open, and his remains despoiled 
of their funeral ornaments ; the sceptre has been stolen 
from the hand of the imperious Elizabeth, and the effigy 
of Henry the Fiflh lies headless. Not a royal monument 
but bears some proof how false and fugitive is the homage 
of mankind. Some are plundered ; some mutilated ; some 
covered with ribaldry and insult — all more or less outraged 
and dishonoured ! 
The last beams of day were now faintly streaming 



208 BEAUTIES OP 

through the painted windows in the high vaults above 
me ; the lower parts of the abbey were already wrapped 
in the obscurity of twilight. The chapels and aisles 
grew darker and darker. The effigies of the kings faded 
into shadows ; the marble figures of the monuments as- 
sumed strange shapes in the uncertain light ; the evening 
breeze crept through the aisles like the cold breath of the 
grave ; and even the distant footfall of a verger, travers- 
ing the Poet's Corner, had something strange and dreary 
in its sound. I slowly retraced my morning's walk, 
and as I passed out at the portal of the cloisters, the 
door, closing with a jarring noise behind me, filled the 
whole building with echoes. 

I endeavoured to form some arrangement in my mind 
of the objects I had been contemplating, but found they 
were already falling into indistinctness and confusion. 
Names, inscriptions, trophies, had all become confoi>nded 
in my recollection, though I had scarcely taken my foot 
from off the threshold. What, thought I, is this vast 
assemblage of sepulchres but a treasury of humiliation ; 
a huge pile of reiterated homilies on the emptiness of re- 
nown, and the certainty of oblivion ! It is, indeed, the 
empire of death ; his great shadowy palace ; where he 
sits in state, mocking at the reliques of human glory, and 
spreading dust and forgetfulness on the monuments of 
princes. How idle a boast, after all, is the immortality 
of a name ! Time is ever silently turning over his pages ; 
we are to much engrossed by the story of the present, 
to think of the characters and anecdotes that gave inter- 
est to the past ; and each age is a volume thrown aside 
to be speedily forgotten. The idol of to-day pushes the 
hero of yesterday out of our recollection ; and will, in 
turn, be supplanted by his successor of to-morrow. 



MASTER HENRY HUDSON. 

In the ever memorable year of our Lord, 1609, on a 
Saturday morning, the five and twentieth day of March, 
old style, did that " worthy and irrecoverable discoverer 
(as he has justly been called,) Master Henry Hudson," 
set sail from Holland in a stout vessel called the Half 
Moon, being employed by the Dutch East India Com- 
pany, to seek a north-west passage to China. 



WASHINGTON IBVING. 209 

Henry, (or as the Dutch historians call him, Hendrick) 
Hudson was a seafaring man of renown, who had learn- 
ed to smoke tobacco under Sir Walter Raleigh, and is 
said to have been the first to introduce it into Holland, 
which gained him much popularity in that country, and 
caused him to find great favour in the eyes of their High 
Mightiness, the lords states-general, and also of the 
honourable West India Company. He was a short, 
square, brawny old gentleman, with a double chin, a 
mastiff mouth, and a broad copper nose, which was sup- 
posed in those days to have acquired its fiery hue from 
the constant neighbourhood of his tobacco pipe. 

He wore a true Andrea Ferrara tucked in a leathern 
belt, and a commodore's cocked hat on one side of his 
head. He was remarkable for always jerking up his 
breeches when he gave out his orders, and his voice sound- 
ed not unlike the brattling of a tin trumpet, owing to the 
number of hard north-westers which he had swallowed 
in the course of his seafaring. 

Such was Hendrick Hudson, of whom we have heard 
so much and know so little ; and I have been thus parti- 
cular in his description, for the benefit of modern painters 
and statuaries, that they may represent him as he was ; 
and not, according to their common custom, with modern 
heroes, make them look like Csesar, or Marcus AureUus, 
or the Apolla of Belvidere. 

Master Robert Juet. 

As chief mate and favourite companion, the commo- 
dore chose Master Robert Juet, of Limehouse, in Eng- 
land- By some his name has been spelled Chewit, and 
ascribed to the circumstance of his having been the first 
man that ever chewed tobacco ; but this I believe to be a 
mere flippancy ; more especially as certain of his progeny 
are living at this day, who write their names Juet. He 
was an old comrade and early school-mate of the great 
Hudson, with whom he had often played truant and 
sailed chip boats in a neighbouring pond, when they were 
little boys ; from whence it is said the commodore first 
derived his bias towards a seafaring life. Certain it is, 
that the old people about Limehouse declared Robert Juet 
to be an unlucky urchin, prone to miscliief, that would 
one day or other come to the gallows. 

He grew up as boys of that kind often grow up, a ram- 

;8* 



210 BEAUTIES OF 

bling heedless varlet, tossed about in all quarters of the 
world — meeting with more perils and wonders than did 
Sinbad the sailor, without growing a whit more wise, 
prudent, or ill-natured. Under every misfortune he com- 
forted himself with a quid of tobacco, and the true philo- 
sophic maxim, that " it will be all the same thing a hun- 
dred years hence.'' He was skilled in the art of carving 
anchors and true lovers' knots on the bulk-heads and 
quarter-railings, and was considered a great wit on board 
ship, in consequence of his playing pranks on every 
body around, and now and then e\en making a wry 
face at old Hendrick, when his back was turned. 

To this universal genius we are indebted for many par- 
ticulars concerning this voyage, of which he wrote a 
history, at the request of the commodore, who had an 
unconquerable aversion to writing hinself, from having 
received so many floggings about it when at school. To 
supply the deficiences of Master Juet's Journal wliich 
is written with true log book brevity, I have availed my- 
self of divers family traditions, handed down from my 
great great grandfather, who accompanied the expedi- 
tion in the capacity of cabin boy. 

A Dutch Voyage of Discovery. 

Suffice it then to say, the voyage was prosperous and 
tranquil — the crew being a patient people, much given to 
slumber and vacuity, and but little troubled with the dis- 
ease of thinking — a malady of the mind, which is the sure 
breeder of discontent. Hudson had laid in abundance of 
gin and sour crout, and every man was allowed to sleep 
quietly at his post unless the wind blew. True it is, some 
slight dissatisfaction was shown on two or three occa- 
sions, a certain unreasonable conduct of Commodore 
Hudson. Thus, for instance, he forbore to shorten sail 
when the wind was light, and the weather serene, which 
was considered among the most experienced Dutch sea- 
men, as certain weather breeders, or prognostics, that the 
weather would change for the worse. He acted, more- 
over in direct contradiction to that ancient and sage rule 
of the Dutch navigators, who always took in sail at 
night; put the helm aport, and turned in; by which 
precaution they had a good night's rest, were sure of 
knowing where they were the next morning, and stood 
but httle chance of running down a continent in the 
lark. He likewise prohibited the seamen from wearing 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 211 

more than five jackets, and six pair of breeches, under 
pretence of rendering them more alert; and no man was 
permitted to go aloft, and hand in sails, with a pipe in 
his mouth, as is the invariable Dutch custom at the 
present day. All these grievances, though they might 
ruffle for a moment the constitutional tranquility of the 
honest Dutch tars, made but a transient impression ; they 
ate hugely, drank profusely, and slept immeasurably ; and 
being under the especial guidance of providence, the ship 
was safely conducted to the coast of America ; where, 
after sundry unimportant touchings and standings off and 
on, she at length, on the fourth day of September, enter- 
ed that majestic bay, which at this day expands its ample 
bosom before the city of New- York, and which had never 
before been visited by any European. 



LETTER. 

FROM MUSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELT KHAN, 

To Asem Hacchem, principal Slave-driver to his Highness 
the Bashaw of Tripoli. 

Though I am often distrusted, my good Asem, with 
the vices and absurdities of the men of this country, yet 
the women afford me a world of amusement. Their 
lively prattle is as diverting as the chattering of the red- 
tailed parrot, nor can the green-headed monkey of Ti- 
mandi equal them in whim and playfulness. But, not- 
withstanding these valuable qualifications, I am sorry to 
observe they are not treated with half the attention be- 
stowed on the before-mentioned animals. These infidels 
put their parrots in cages and chain their monkeys ; but 
their women, instead of being carefully shut up in ha- 
rems and seraglios, are abandoned to the direction of their 
own reason, and suffered to run about in perfect freedom, 
like other domestic animals: this comes, Asem, of treat- 
ing their women as rational beings, and allowing them 
souls. The consequence of this piteous neglect may easily 
be imagined ; — they have degenerated into all their native 
wildness, are seldom to be caught at home, and, at an 
early age, take to the streets and highways, where they 
rove about in droves, giving almost as much annoyance 



212 BEAUTIES OP 

to the peaceable people as the troops of wild dogs that in- 
fest our great cities, or the flights of locusts that some- 
times spread famine and desolation over whole regions of 
fertility. 

This propensity to relapse into pristine wildness con- 
vinces me of the untameable disposition of the sex, who 
may indeed be partially domesticated by a long course of 
confinement and restraint, but the moment they are re- 
stored to personal freedom, become wild as the young 
partridge of this country, which, though scarcely half 
hatched, will take to the fields and run about with the 
shell upon its back. 

Notwithstanding their wildness, however, they are re- 
markably easy of access, and suffer themselves to be ap- 
proached, at certain hours of the day, without any symp- 
toms of apprehension; and I have even happily succeeded 
in detecting them at their domestic occupations. One 
of the most important of these consists in thumping ve- 
hemently on a kind of musical instrument, and produc- 
ing a confused, hideous, and undefinable uproar, which 
they call the description of a battle — a jest, no doubt, for 
they are wonderfully facetious at times, and make great 
practice of passing jokes upon strangers. Sometimes they 
employ themselves in painting little caricatures of land- 
scapes, wherein they will display their singular drollery 
in battering nature fairly out of countenance — represent- 
ing her tricked out in all the tawdry finery of copper 
skies, purple rivers, calico rocks, red grass, clouds that 
look like old clothes set adrift by the tempest, and foxy 
trees, whose melancholy foliage, drooping and curling 
most fantastically, reminds me of an undressed periwig 
that I have now and then seen hung on a stick in a bar- 
ber's window. At other times they employ themselves 
in acquiring a smattering of languages spoken by nations 
on the other side of the globe, as they find their own lan- 
guage not sufficiently copious to supply their constant 
demands, and express their multifarious ideas. But 
their most important domestic avocation is to embroider, 
on satin or muslin ; flowers of a non-descript kind, in 
which the great art is to make them as unlike nature as 
possible ; or to fasten little bits of silver, gold, tinsel, and 
glass, on long stripes of muslin, which they drag after 
them with much dignity whenever they go abroad — a 
fine lady, like a bird of paradise, being estimated by the 
length of her tail. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 213 

But do not, my friend, fall into the enonnous error of 
supposing that the exercise of these arts is attended with 
any useful or profitable result ; believe me, thou couldst 
not indulge an idea more unjust and injurious ; for it 
appears to be an established maxim among the women of 
this country, that a lady looses her dignity when she con- 
descends to be useful, and forfeits all rank in society the 
moment she can be convicted of earning a farthing. 
Their labours, therefore, are directed not towards sup- 
plying their household, but in decking their persons, and 
— generous souls ! — they deck their persons, not so much 
to please themselves, as to gratify others, particularly 
strangers. I am confident thou wilt stare at this, my 
good Asem, accustomed as thou art to our eastern fe- 
males, who shrink in blushing timidity even from the 
glances of a lover, and are so chary of their favours, that 
they even seem fearful of lavishing their smiles too pro- 
fusely on their husbands. Here, on the contrary, the 
stranger has the first place in female regard, and, so far 
do they carry their hospitality, that I have seen a fine la- 
dy slight a dozen tried friends and real admirers, who 
lived in her smiles and made her happiness their study, 
merely to allure the vague and wandering glances of a 
stranger, who viewed her person with indifference and 
treated her advances with contempt. — By the whiskers of 
our sublime bashaw, but this is highly flattering to a fo- 
reigner! and thou mayest judge how particularly pleasing 
to one who is, like myself, so ardent an admirer of the 
sex. Far be it from_ me to condemn this extraordinary 
manifestation of good will — let their own countrymen 
look to that. 

Be not alarmed, T conjure thee, my dear Asem, lest I 
should be tempted, by these beautiful barbarians, to break 
the faith I owe to the three-and-twenty-wives, from whom 
my unhappy destiny has perhaps severed me for ever ; — 
no, Asem, neither time, nor the bitter succession of mis- 
fortunes that pursues me, can shake from my heart the 
memory of former attachments. I listen with tranquil 
heart to the strumming and prattling of these fair sirens ; 
their whimsical paintings touch not the tender chord of 
my affections ; and I would still defy their fascinations, 
though they trailed after them trains as long as the gor- 
geous trappings w^hich are dragged at the heels of the holy 
camel of Mecca, or as the tall of the great beast in our 
prophet's vision, which measured three hundred and forty- 



214 EEAUTIES OP 

nine leagues, two miles, three furlongs, and a hand's 
breadth in longitude. 

The dress of these women is, if possible, more eccen- 
tric and whimsical than their deportment ; and they take 
an inordinate pride in certain ornaments which are pro- 
bably derived from their savage progenitors. A woman 
of this country, dressed out for an exhibition, is loaded 
with as many ornaments as a Circassian slave when 
brought out for sale. Their heads are tricked out with 
little bits of horn or shell, cut into fantastic shapes ; and 
they seem to emulate each other in the number of these 
singular baubles, like the women we have seen in our 
journeys to Aleppo, who cover their heads with the en- 
tire shell of a tortoise, and thus equipped are the envy 
of all their less fortunate acquaintance. They also deco- 
rate their necks and ears with coral, gold chains, and 
glass beads, and load their fingers with a variety of rings ; 
though, I must confess, I have never perceived that they 
wear any in their noses — as has been affirmed by ma- 
ny travellers. We have heard much of their painting 
themselves most hideously, and making use of bear's 
grease in great profusion — but this, I solemnly assure 
thee, is a misrepresentation : civilization, no doubt, hav- 
ing gradually extirpated these nauseous practices. It is 
true, I have seen two or three of these females who had 
disguised their features with paint, but then it was merely 
to give a tinge of red to their cheeks, and did not look 
very frightful ; and as to ointment, they rarely use any 
now, except occasionally a little Grecian oil for their hair, 
which gives it a glossy, greasy, and, as they think very 
comely appearance. The last mentioned class of females, 
I take it for granted, have been but lately caught snd still 
retain strong traits of their original savage propensities. 

The most flagrant and inexcusable fault however, 
which I find in those lovely savages, is the shameless and 
abandoned exposure of their persons. Wilt not thou sus- 
pect me of exaggeration when I affirm — wilt not thou blush 
for them, most discreet musselman, when I declare to thee 
— that tbey are so lost to all sense of modesty as to expose 
the whole of their faces from their forehead to the chin, 
and they even go abroad with their hands uncovered ! — 
Monstrous indelicacy ! 

But what I am going to disclose will doubtless appear 
to thee still more incredible. Though I cannot forbear 
paying a tribute of admiration to the beautiful faces of 
these lair uifidels, yet I must give it as my firm opinion 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 215 

that their persons are preposterously unseemly. In vain 
did I look around me, on my first landing', for those di- 
vine forms of redundant proportions, which answer to 
the true standard of eastern beauty— not a single fat fair 
one could I behold among the multitudes that thronged 
the streets: the females that passed in review before "me 
tripping sportively along, resembled a procession of sha- 
dows, returning to their graves at the crowing of the 
cock. 

This meagerness I first ascribed to their excessive vo- 
lubility, for I have somewhere seen it advanced by a 
learned doctor, that the sex were endowed with a pecu- 
liar activity of tongue, in order that they might practise 
talking as a healthful exercise, necessary to their confined 
and sedentary mode of life. This exercise, it was natu- 
ral to suppose, would be carried to great excess in a logo- 
cracy. " Too true," thought I, " they have converted, 
what was undoubtedly meant as a beneficent gift, into a 
noxious habit, that steals the flesh from their bones and 
the rose from their cheeks — they absolutely talk them- 
selves thin !" Judge then of my surprise when I was 
assured, not long since, that this meagreness was consi- 
dered the perfection of personal beauty, and that many a 
lady starved herself, with all the obstinate perseverance 
of a pious dervise, into a fine figure ! "Nay more," said 
my informer, " they will often sacrifice their healths in 
this eager pursuit of skeleton beauty, and drink vinegar, 
eat pickles, and smoke tobacco, to keep themselves within 
the scanty outlines of the fashions." — Faugh ! Allah pre- 
serve me from such beauties, who contaminate their pure 
blood with noxious recipes ; who impiously sacrifice the 
best gifts of Heaven to a preposterous and mistaken 
vanity. Ere long I shall not be surprised to see them 
scaring their faces like the negroes of Congo, flattening 
their noses in imitation of the Hottentots, or like the bar- 
barians of Ab-al Timar, distorting their lips and ears out 
of all natural dimensions. Since I received this infor- 
mation, I cannot contemplate a fine figure, without think- 
ing of a vinegar cruet; nor look at a dashing belle, 
without fancying her a pot of pickeled cucumbers? What 
a difference, my friend, between those shades and the 
plump beauties of Tripoli, — what a contrast between an 
infidel fair one and my favourite wife, Fatirna, whom I 
bought by the hundred weight, and had trundled home 
in a wheelbarrow I 



216 BEAUTIES OF 

But enough for the present ; I am promised a faithful 
account of the arcana of a lady's toilette — a complete ini- 
tiation into the arts, mysteries, spells and potions, in that 
the whole chemical process, hy which she reduces herself 
down to the most fashionable standard of insignificance ; 
together with specimens of the strait waistcoats, the la- 
cings, the bandages, and the various ingenious instruments 
Vv'ith which she puts nature to the rack, and tortures her- 
self into a proper figure to be admired. 

Farewell, thou sweetest of slave drivers ! The echoes 
that repeat to a lover's ear the song of his mistress are not 
more soothing than tidings from those we love. Let thy 
answer to my letters be speedy; and never, I pray thee, 
for a moment, cease to watch over the prosperity of my 
house, and the welfare of my beloved wives. Let them 
want for nothing, my friend, but feed them plentifully 
on honey, boiled rice, and water gruel; so that when I re- 
turn to the blessed land of my fathers, if that can ever be, 
I may find them improved in size and loveliness, and sleek 
as the graceful elephants that range the green valley of 
Abimar. 

Ever thine,' 

MUSTAPHA. 



AUTUMNAL REFLECTIONS. 

When a man is quietly journeying downwards into the 
valley of the shadow of departed youth, and begins to con- 
template in a shortened perspective the end of his pilgrim- 
age, he becomes more solicitous than ever that the re- 
mainder of his wayfaring should be smooth and pleasant, 
and the evening of his life, like the evening of a summer's 
day, fade away in mild uninterrupted serenity. If haply 
his heart has escaped uninjured, through the dangers of 
a seductive world, it may then administer to the purest of 
his felicities, and its chords vibrate more musically for the 
trials they have sustained — like the viol which yields a 
melody sweet in proportion to its age. 

To a mind thus temperately harmonized, thus ma- 
tured and mellowed by a long lapse of years, there is 
something truly congenial in the quiet enjoyment of 
our early autumn, amid the tranquillities of the country. 
There is a sober and chastened air of gaiety diiiused over 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 217 

the face of nature peculiarly interesting loan old man j 
and when he views the surrounding landscape withering 
under his eye, it seems as if he and nature were takino- a 
last farewell of e* .h other, and parting with a melancholy 
smile — like a couple of old friends, who, having sported 
away the spring and summer of life together, part at the 
approach of winter with a kind of prophetic fear that they 
are never to meet again. 

It is either my good fortune or mishap to be keenly 
Susceptible to the influence of the atmosphere; and I can 
feel in the morning, before I open my window, whether 
the wind is easterly. It will not, therefore, I presume 
be considered an extravagant instance of vainglory when 
I assert, that there are iew men who can discriminate 
more accurately in the different varieties of damps, fogs, 
Scotch-mists, and north-east storms, than myself, To 
the great discredit of my philosophy I confess, I seldom 
fail to anathematize and excommunicate the weather, 
when it sports too rudely with my sensitive system ; but 
then I always endeavour to atone therefore, by eulogizing 
it when deserving of approbation, And as most of my 
readers, simple folk ! make but one distinction, to wit, rain 
and sunshine — living in most honest ignorance of the va- 
rious nice shades which distinguish one fine day from an- 
other — I take the trouble from time to time, of letting them 
into some of the secrets of nature, — so will they be the 
better enabled to enjoy her beauties, with the zest of con- 
noisseurs, and derive at least as much information from 
my pages as from the weather-wise lore of the almanack. 

Much of my recreation, since I retreated to the Hall, 
has consisted in making little excursions through the 
neighbourhood ; which abounds in the variety of wild, ro- 
mantic, and luxuriant landscape that generally characte- 
rizes the scenery in the vicinity of our rivers. There is 
not an eminence within a circuit of many miles but com- 
mands an extensive range of diversified and enchanting 
prospect. 

Often have I rambled to the summit of some favourite 
hill, and thence, with feelings sweetly tranquil as the 
lucid expanse of the heavens that canopied me have noted 
the slow and almost imperceptible changes that mark the 
Waning year. There are many features peculiar to our 
autumn, and which give it an individual character : the 
"green and yellow melancholy" that first steals over the 
landscape — the mild and steady serenity of the weather, 

19 



218 BEAUTIES OF 

and the transparent purity of the atmosphere, speak not 
merely to the senses but the heart, — if is the season of 
Uberal emotions. To this succeeds fantastic gaiety, a 
motley dress, which the woods assume, where green and 
yellow, orange, purple, crimson and scarlet, are whimsi- 
cally blended together. — A sickly splendour this ! — like 
the wild and broken-hearted gaiety that sometimes pre- 
cedes dissolution, or that childish sportiveness of super- i 
annuated age, proceeding, not from a vigorous flow of , 
animal spirits, but from the decay and imbecility of the i 
mind. We might, perhaps, be deceived by this gaudy [ 
garb of nature, were it not for the rustling of the falling ■ 
leaf, which, breaking on the stillness of the scene, seems 
to announce, in prophetic whispers, the dreary winter 
that is approching. When I have sometimes seen a thrif- 
ty young oak changing its hue of sturdy vigour for a 
bright but transient glow of red, it has recalled to my mind 
the treacherous bloom that once mantled the cheek of a 
friend who is now no more ; and which, while it seemed 
to promise a long life of jocund spirits was the sure pre- 
cursor of premature decay. In a little while, and this 
ostentatious foliage disappears — the close of autumn 
leaves but one wide expanse of dusky brown, save where 
some rivulet steals along, bordered with little stripes of 
green grass — the woodland echoes no more to the carols of 
the feathered tribes that sported in the leafy covert, and 
its solitude and silence are uninterrupted except by the 
plaintive whistle of the quail, the barking of the squirrel, 
or the still more melancholy wintiy wind, which, rushing 
and swelling through the hollows of the mountains, sighs 
through the leafless branches of the grove, and seems to 
mourn the desolation of the year. 

To one who, like myself, is fond of drawing compari- 
sons between the different divisions of life and those of 
the seasons, there will appear a striking analogy which 
connects the feelings of the aged with the decline of the 
year. Often as I contemplate the mild, uniform, and 
genial lustre with which the sun cheers and invigorates 
us in the month of October, and the almost impercepti- 
ble haze which, without obscuring, tempers all the aspe- 
rities of the landscape, and gives to every object a cha- 
racter of stillness and repose, I cannot help comparing it 
with that portion of existence, when the spring of youth- ■ 
ful hope and the summer of the passions having gone by, 
reason assumes an undisputed sway, and lights us on 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 219 

with bright but undazzling lustre, adown the hill of life. 
There is a full and mature luxuriance in the fields that 
fills the bosom with generous and disinterested content. 
It is not the thoughtless extravagance of spring, prodigal 
only in blossoms, nor the languid voluptuousness of sum- 
mer, feverish in its enjoyments, and teeming only with 
immature abundance — it is that certain fruilion of the 
labours of the past — that prospect of comfortable realities, 
which those will be sure to enjoy who have improved the 
bounteous smiles of Heaven, nor wasted away their 
spring and summer in empty trifling or criminal indul- 
gence. 

Cousin Pindar, who is my constant companion in 
these expeditions, and who still possesses much of the 
fire and energy of youthful sentiment, and a buxom hilar- 
ity of the spirits, often indeed draws me from these half- 
melancholy reveries, and makes me feel young again by 
the enthusiasm with which he contemplates, and the ani- 
mation with which he eulogizes the beauties of nature 
displayed before him. His enthusiastic disposition never 
allows him to enjoy things by halves, and his feelings are 
continally breaking out in notes of admiration and ejacu- 
lations that sober reason might perhaps deem extravagant. 
But for my part, when I see a hale hearty old man, who 
has jostled through the rough path of the world, without 
having worn away the fine edge of his feelings, or blunt- 
ed his sensibility to natural and moral beauty, I compare 
him to the evergreen of the forest, whose colours, instead 
of fading at the approach of winter, seem to assume addi- 
tional lustre when contrasted with the surrounding desola- 
tion. Such a man is my friend Pindar ; — yet sometimes, 
and particularly at the approach of evening, even he 
will fall in with my humour ; but he soon recovers his 
natural tone of spirits ; and, mounting on the elasticity of 
his mind, like Ganymede on the eagle's wing, he soars to 
the etherial regions of sunshine and fancy. 

One afternoon we had strolled to the top of a high hill 
in the neighbourhood of the Hall, which commands an 
almost boundless prospect; and as the shadows began to 
lengthen around us, and the distant mountains to fade 
into mists, my cousin was seized with a moralizing fit. 
"It seems to me, " said he, laying his hand lightly on 
my shoulder, "that there is just at this season, and this 
hour, a sympathy between us and the world we are now 
contemplating. The evening is stealing upon nature as 



220 BEAUTIES OP 

well as upon us ; — the shadows of the opening day have 
given place to those of its close ; and the only difference 
is, that in the morning they were before us, now they are 
behind; and that the first vanished in the splendours of 
noon-day, the latter will be lost in the oblivion of night. — ' 
Our ' May of life,' my dear Launce, has for ever fled : our 
summer is over and gone ; — but," continued he, suddenly 
recovering himself and slapping me gaily on the shoulder. 
— " but why should we repine? — What though the ca- 
pricious zephyrs of spring, the heats and hurricanes of 
summer, have given place to the sober sunshine of autumn 
— and though the woods begin to assume the dappled live- 
ry of decay ! yet the prevailing colour is still green — gay, 
sprightly green. 

" Let us then comfort ourselves with this reflection ; 
that though the shades of the morning have given place 
to those of the evening, — though the spring is past, the 
summer over, and the autumn come, — still you and I 
go on our way rejoicing ; — and while, like the lofty 
mountans of our Southern America, our heads are cover^ 
ed with snow, still, like them, we feel the genial warmth 
of spring and summer playing upon our bosoms." 



THE FAMILY OF THE LAMBS. 

The family of the Lambs had long been among the most 
thriving and popular in the neighbourhood ; the Miss 
Lambs were the belles of Little Britain, and every body 
was pleased when Old Lamb had made money enough to 
shut up shop, and put his name on a brass plate on his 
door. In an evil hour, however, one of the Miss Lambs 
had the honour of being a lady in attendance on the La- 
dy Mayoress, at her grand annual ball, on which occasion 
she wore three towering ostrich feathers on her head. 
The family never got over it ; they were immediately 
smitten with a passion for high life ; set up a one horse 
carriage, put a bit of gold lace round the errand boy's hat, 
and have been the talk and detestation of the whole neigh' 
bourhood ever since. They could no longer be induced to 
play at Pope- Joan or blind-man's-buff; they could en- 
dure no dances but quadrilles, which no body had ever 
heard of in Little Britian ; and they took to readimg no- 
yels, talldng bad French, and playing upon the piano. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 221 

Their brother too, who had been articled to an attorney, 
set up for a dandy and a critic, characters hitherto un- 
known in these parts, and he confounded the worthy 
folks exceedingly by talking about Kean, the Opera and 
the Edinbro' Review. 

What was still worse, the Lambs gave a grand ball, 
to which they neglected to invite any of their old neigh- 
bours ; but they had a great deal of genteel company from 
Theobald's Road, Red-lion Square, and other parts to- 
wards the west. There were several beaux of the bro- 
ther's acquaintance from Gray's Inn Lane and Hatton 
Garden ! and not less than three Alderman's ladies with 
their daughters. This was not to be forgotten or for- 
given. All Little Britain was in an uproar with the 
smacking of whips, the lashing of miserable horses, and 
the rattling and jingling of hackney coaches. The gos- 
sips of the neighbourhood might be seen popping their 
night caps out at every window, watching the crazy ve- 
hicles rumble by; and there was a knot of virulent old 
crones, that kept a look-out from a house just opposite the 
retired butcher's, and scanned and criticised every one 
that knocked at the door. 

This dance was a cause of almost open war, and the 
whole neighbourhood declared they would have nothing 
more to say to the Lambs. It is true that Mrs. Lamb, 
when she had no engagements with her quality acquain- 
tance, would give little hum-drum tea junkettings to some 
of her old cronies, " quite," as she would say, " in a 
friendly way:" and it is equally true that her invitations 
were always accepted, in spite of all previous vows to 
the contrary. Nay, the good ladies would sit and be de- 
lighted with the music of the Miss Lambs, who would 
condescend to strum an Irish melody for them on the 
piano; and they would listen with wonderful interest to 
Mrs. Lamb's anecdotes of Alderman Plunket's family 
of Port-soken-ward, and the Miss Timlierlakes, the rich 
heiresses of Crutched-Friars ; but then they relieved their 
consciences and averted the reproach of their confeder- 
ates, by canvassing at the next gossiping convocation ev- 
ery thing that had passed, and pulling the Lambs and 
their rout all to pieces. 

The only one of the family that could not be made fa- 
shionable was the retired butcher himself Honest Lamb, 
in spite of the meekness of his name, was a rough hearty 
old fellow, with the voice of a lion, a head of blach 

19* 



222 BEAUTIES OP 

hair like a shoe-brush, and a broad face mottled like his 
own beef. It was in vain that the daughters always 
spoke of him as " the old gentleman," addressed him as 
*' papa '' in tones of infinite softness, and endeavoured t; 
coax him into a dressing gown and slippers, and othei 
gentlemanly habits. Do what they might, there was no 
keeping down the butcher. His sturdy nature would 
break through all their glossings. He had a hearty vul- 
gar good humour that was irrepressible. His very jokes 
made his sensitive daughters shudder; and he persisted 
in wearing his blue cotton coat of a morning, dining at 
two o'clock, and having a " bit of sausage with his tea." 

He was doomed, however, to share the unpopularity 
of his family. He found his old comrades gradually 
growing cold and civil to him ; no longer laughing at his 
jokes ; and now and then throwing out a fling at " some 
people" and a hint about " quality binding." This both 
nettled and perplexed the honest butcher ; and his wife 
and d-VJghters, with the consummate policy of the shrew- 
der sex, taking advantage of the circumstance, at length 
prevailed upon him to give up his afternoon's pipe and 
tankard at Wagstalf's ; to sit after dinner by himself and 
t i-kc his pint of port— a liquor he detested — and to nod in 
his chair in solitary and dismal gentility. 

The Miss Lambs mio-ht now be seen flauntinor alonff 
the streets in French bonnets, with unknown beaux ; and 
talking and laughing so loud that it distressed the nerves 
of every good lady within hearing. They even went so 
far as to attempt patronage, and actually induced a French 
dancing master to set up in the neighbourhood ; but the 
worthy folks of Little Britain took fire at it, and did so 
persecute the poor Gaul, that he was fain to pack up fid- 
dle and dancing pumps, and decamp with such precipita- 
tion, that he absolutely forgot to pay for his lodgings. 

I had flattered myself, at first, with the idea that all 
this fiery indignation on the part of the community, was 
merely the overflowing of their zeal for good old English 
manners, and their horror of innovation ; and I applaud- 
ed the silent contempt they were so vociferous in express- 
ing, for upstart pride, French fashions, and the Miss 
Lambs. But I greive to say that I soon perceived the 
infection had taken hold ; and that my neighbours, after 
condemning, were beginning to follow their example. I 
overheard my landlady importuning her husband to let 
their daughters have one quarter at French and music, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 223 

and that they might take a few lessons in quadrille. I 
even saw, in the course of a few Sundays, no less than 
five French bonnets, precisely like those of the Miss 
Lambs, parading about Little Britain. 



BLINDMAN'S-BUFP. 

A^ TER the dinner table was removed, the hall was 
^iven up to the younger memliers of the family, who, 
prompted to all kind of noisy mirth by the Oxonian and 
Master Simon, made its old walls ring with their mer- 
riment, as they played at romping games. I delight in 
witnessing the gambols of children, and particularly at 
tliis happy holiday season, and could not help stealing 
out of the drawing-room on hearing one of their peals 
of laughter. I found them at the game of blindman's- 
buft*. Master Simon who was the leader of their revels, 
and seemed on all occasions to fulfil the office of that an- 
cient potentate, the Lord of Misrule, was blinded in the 
midst of the hall. The little beings were as busy about 
him as the mock fairies about Falstaff; pinching hiin. 
plucking at the skirts of his coat, and tickling him with 
straws. One fine blue-eyed girl of about thirteen, with 
her flaxen hair all in beautiful confusion, her frolic face 
in a glow, her frock half torn off her shoulders, a com- 
plete picture of a romp, was the chief tormentor; and 
from the slyness with which Master Simon avoided the 
smaller game, and hemmed this wild little nymjjh in cor 
ncrs, and obliged her to jump shrieking over chairs, I sus- 
pected the rogue of being not a whit more blinded than 
was convenient. 



THE ANGLER. 

On parting with the old angler I inquired after his 
place of abode, and happening to be in the neighbourhood 
of the village a few evenings afterwards, I had the curi- 
osity to seek nim out. I found him living in a small 
cottage, containing only one room, but a perfect curiosit) 
in its method and arrangement. It was on the skrits of 
the village, on a green bank, a little back from the road, 



224 BEAUTIES OF 

with a small garden in front, stocked with kitchen herbs, 
and adorned with a few flowers. The whole front of the 
cottage was overrun with a honeysuckle. On the top was 
a ship for a weathercock. The interior was fitted up in 
a truly nautical style ; his ideas of comfort and convenience 
having been acquired on the birth-deck of a man of war. 
A hammock was slung from the ceiling, which, in the 
day-time, was lashed up so as to take but little room. 
From the centre of the chamber hung a model of a ship 
of his own workmanship. Two or three chairs, a table, 
and a large sea chest, formed the principal moveables. 
About the walls were stuck up naval balads, such as Ad- 
miral Hosier's Ghost, All in the downs, and Tom Bow- 
ling, intermingled with pictures of sea fights, among which 
the battle of Camperdown held a distinguished place. 
The mantle-piece was decorated with sea shells; over 
which hung a quadrant, flanked by two wood-cuts of most 
bitter looking naval commanders. His implements for an- 
gling were carefully disposed on nails and hooks about the 
room. On a shelf was arranged his library, containing a 
work on angling, much worn ; a bible covered with can- 
vass ; an odd volume or two of voyages ; a nautical alma- 
nack ; and a book of songs. 

His family consisted of a large black cat with one eye, 
and a parrot which he had caught and tamed, and edu- 
cated himself, in the course of one of his voyages ; and 
which uttered a variety of sea phrases with the hoarse brat- 
tling tone of a veteran boatswain. The establishment re- 
minded me of that of the renowned Robinson Crusoe ; it 
was kept in neat order, every thing being " stowed away'' 
with the regularity of a ship of war ; and he informed me 
he " scovvred the deck every morning, and swept it be- 
tween meals." 

I found him seated on a bench before the door, smok- 
ing his pipe in the soft evening sunshine. His cat was 
purring soberly on the threshold, and his parrot describ- 
ing some strange evolutions in an iron ring that swung 
in the centre of his cage. He had been angling all day, 
and gave me a history of his sport with as much minute- 
ness as a general would talk over a campaign ; being parti- 
culary animated in relating the manner in which he had tak- 
en a large trout, which had completely tasked all liis skill 
and wariness, and which he had sent as a trophy to mine 
hostess of the inn. 

How comforting it is to see a cheerful and contented 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 226 

old age ; and to behold a poor fellow, like this, after be- 
ing tempest tost through life, safely moored in a snuo- 
harbour, in the evenin.o; of his days! His happiness, how- 
ever, sprung from within himself, and was independant 
of external circumstances; for he had that inexhaustible 
good-nature, which is the most precious gift of Heaven ; 
spreading itself hke oil over the troubled sea of thought, 
and keeping the mind smooth and equable in the rough- 
est weather. 

On inquiring further about him, I learned that he was 
a universal favourite in the village, and the oracle of the 
tap-room; where he delighted the rustics with his songs, 
and like Sinbad, astonished them with his stories of 
strange lands, and shipwrecks, and sea fights. He was 
much noticed too bv gentlemen sportsmen of the neigh- 
bourhood ; had taught several of them the art of angling ; 
and was a privileged visiter to their kitchens. The 
whole tenor of his life was quiet and inoffensive, being 
principally passed about the neighbouring streams when 
the weather and season were favourable; and at other 
times he employed himself at home, preparing his fishing 
ta(;kle for the next campaign, or manufacturing rods, nets, 
and flies for his patrons and pupils among the gentry. 

He was a regular attendant at church on Sundays, 
though he generally fell asleep during the sermon. He 
had made it his particular request that when he died he 
should be buried on a green spot, which he could see from 
his seat in church, and which he had marked out ever 
since he was a boy, and had thought of when far from 
home on the raging sea, in danger of being food for the 
fishes-^it was the spot where his father and mother had 
been buried. 



RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND. 

Nothing can be more imposing than the magnificence ol 
English park scenery. Vast lawns that extend like sheets 
of vivid green, with here and there clumps of gigantic 
trees, heaping up rich piles of foliage. The solemn pomp 
of groves and woodland glades, with the deer troopmg in 
silent herds across them; the hare, bounding away to the 
covert ; or the pheasant, suddenly bursting upon the wing 
The brook, taught to wind in natural meanderings, or 



226 BEAUTIES OF 

expand into a glassy lake — ^the sequestered pool, reflecting 
the quivering trees, with the yellow leaf sleeping on its 
oosom, and the trout roaming fearlessly about its limpid 
waters : while some rustic temple or sylvan statue, growTi 
green and dank with age, gives an air of classic sanctity to 
the seclusion. 

These are but a few of the features of park scenery; 
but what most delights me, is the creative talent with 
which the Encflish decorate the unostentatious abodes of 
middle life. The rudest habitation, the most unpromising 
and scanty portion of land, in the hands of an Englishman 
of taste, becomes a little paradise. With a nicely dis- 
criminating eye, he seizes at once upon its capabilities, 
and pictures in his mind the future landscape. The ster- 
ile spot grows into loveUness under his hand ; and yet the 
operations of art which produce the effect are scarely to be 
perceived. The cherishing and training of some trees ; the 
cautious pruning of others ; the nice distribution of flowers 
and plants of tender and graceful foliage ; the introduction 
of a green slope of velvet turf; the partial opening to a peep 
of blue distance, or silver gleam of water; all these are 
managed with a delicate tact, a pervading yet quiet assidui- 
ty, Uke the magic touchings with which a painter finishes 
up a favourite picture. 

The residence of people of fortune and refinement in 
the country has diffused a degree of taste and elegance in 
rural economy, that descends to the lowest class. The 
very labourer, v/ith his thatched cottage and narrow slip 
of ground, attends to their embellishment. The trim 
hedge, the grass-plot before the door, the little flower-bed 
bordered with snug box, the woodbine trained up against 
the wall, and hanging its blossoms about the lattice, the 
pot of flowers in the window, the holly providently plant- 
ed about the house, to cheat winter of its dreariness, and 
to throw in a semblance of green summer to cheer the 
fire side : all these bespeak the influence of taste, flowing 
down from high sources, and pervading the lowest levels 
of the public mind. If ever Love, as poets sing, delights 
to visit a cottage, it must be the cottage of an English 
peasant. 

The fondness for rural life among the higher classes of 
the English has had a great and salutary effect upon the 
national character. I do not know a finer race of men 
than the English gentlemen. Instead of the softness and 
eflfeminacy which characterize the man of rank in most 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 227 

countries, they exhibit a union of elegance and strength, 
a robustness of frame and freshness of complexion, which 
I am inclined to attribute to their living so much in the 
open air, and pursuing so eagerly the invigorating recre- 
ations of the country. These hardy exercises produce 
also a healthful tone of mind and spirits, and a manliness 
and simplicity of manners, which even the follies and 
dissipations of the town cannot easily pervert, and can 
never entirely destroy. In the country, too, the differ- 
ent orders of society seem to approach more freely, to be 
more disposed to blend and operate favourably upon each 
other. The distinctions between them do not appear to 
be so marked and impassable, as in the cities. The man- 
ner in which property has been distributed into small es- 
tates and farms, has established a regular gradation from 
the nobleman, through the classes of gentry, small land- 
ed proprietors, and substantial farmers, down to the la- 
bouring peasantry ; and while it has thus banded the ex- 
tremes of society together, has infused into each interme- 
diate rank a spirit of independence. This, it must be 
confessed, is not so universally the case at present as it 
was formerly ; the larger estates having, in late years of 
distress, absorbed the smaller, and, in some parts of the 
country, almost annihilated the sturdy race of small far- 
mers. These, however, I believe, are but casual breaks in 
the general system I have mentioned. 

In rural occupation there is nothing mean and debas- 
ing. It leads a man forth among scenes of natural gran- 
deur and beauty ; it leaves him to the workings of his own 
mind, operated upon by the purest and most elevating of 
external influences. Such a man may be simple and 
rough, but he cannot be vulgar. The man of refinement, 
therefore, finds nothing revolting in an intercourse with 
the lower orders of moral life, as he does when he casually 
mingles with the lower of cities. He lays aside his dis- 
tance and reserve, and is glad to wave the distinctions of 
rank, and to enter into the honest, heartfelt enjoyments of 
common life. Indeed the very amusements of the country 
bring men more and more together; and the sound of 
hound and horn blend all feelings into harmony. I be- 
lieve this is one great reason why the nobility and gentry 
are more popular among the inferior orders in England 
than they are in any other country ; and why the latter 
have endured so many excessive pressures and extremities, 



328 BEAUTIES OF 

without repining more generally al the unequal distribu- 
tion of fortune and privilege. 

To this mingling of cultivated and rustic society may 
also be attributed the rural feelincr that runs throucrh Bri- 
tish literature ; the frequent use of illustrations from rural 
life ; those incomparable descriptions of nature that abound 
in the British Poets — ^that have continued dow^n from 
"the flower and the leaf of Chaucer, and have brought 
into our closets all the freshness and fragrance of the dewy 
landscape. The pastoral writers of other countries appear 
as if they had paid nature an occasional visit, and become 
acquainted with her general charms : but the British poets 
have lived and revelled with her, — they have wooed her' 
in her most secret haunts, — they have watched her minu- 
test caprices. A spray could not tremble in the breeze — 
a leaf could not rustle to the ground — a diamond drop 
could not patter in the stream — a fragrance could not 
exhale from the humble violet, nor a daisy unfold its crim- 
son tints to the morning; but it has been noticed by these 
impassioned and delicate observers, and wrought up into- 
some beautiful morality. 



LETTER 

FROM MUSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELI KHAN, 

To MuleyHelim al Raggi, surnamedthe agreeable Raga-^ 

miiffin, chief mountebank and buffo-dancer to 

his Highness. 

The ttumerous letters which I have written to our friend 
the slave-driver, as well as those to thy kinsman the snor- 
er, and which doubtless were read to thee, honest Muley, 
have in all probabiUty, awakened thy curiosity to know fur- 
ther particulars concerning the manners of the barbarians, 
who hold me in such ignominious captivity. I was lately 
at one of their public ceremonies, which, at first, perplexed 
me exceedingly as to its object ; but as the explanations of 
a friend have let me somewhat into the secret, and as it 
seems to bear no small analogy to thy profession, a descrip* 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 229 

tion <pf it may contribute to thy amusement, if not to thy 
in!-'truction. 

A few days since, just as I had finished my coffee, and 
was perfuming my whiskers preparatory to a morning 
walk, I was waited upon by an inhabitant of this place, 
a gay young infidel, who has of late cultivated my ac- 
quaintance. He presented me with a square bit of paint- 
ed pasteboard, which he informed me, would entitle me 
to admittance to the city assembly. Curious to know the 
meaning of a phrase which was entirely new to me, I 
requested an explanation ; when my friend informed me 
that the assembly was a numerous concourse of young 
people of both sexes, who, on certain occasions, gathered 
together to dance about a large room with violent gestic- 
ulation, and try to out-dress each other. "In short," said 
^e, " If you wish to seethe natives in all their glory, there's 
no place like the city assembly ; so you must go there and 
sport your whiskers." Though the matter of sporting 
my whiskers was considerably beyond my apprehension, 
yet I now began, as I thought to understand him. I 
had heard of the war dances of the natives, which are a 
kind of religious institution, and had little doubt but 
that this must be a solemnity of the kind — upon a pro- 
digious great scale. Anxious as I am to contemplate 
these strange people in every situation, I willingly ac- 
ceded to his proposal, and, to be more at ease, I de- 
termined to lay aside my Turkish dress, and appear in 
plain garments of the fashion of this country, as is my 
custom whenever I wish to mingle in a crowd, without 
exciting the attention of the gaping multitude. 

It was long after the shades of night had fallen, before 
my friend appeared to conduct me to the assembly, 
" These infidels," thought I, "shroud themselves in 
mystery, and seek the aid of gloom and darkness, to 
heighten the solemnity of their pious orgies. Resolving 
to conduct myself with that decent respect, which every 
stranger owes to the customs of the land in which he so- 
journs, I chastised my features into an expression of sober 
reverence, and stretched my face into a degree of longi- 
tude suitable to the ceremony I was about to witness. 
Spite of myself, I felt an emotion of awe stealing over 
my senses as I approached the majestic pile. My imagi- 
nation pictured something similar to a descent into the cave 
of Dom-Daniel, where the necromancers of the East are 
taught their infernal arts. I entered with the same gra* 

20 



230 BEAUTIES OP 

vity of demeanour that I would have approached the holy , 
temple of Mecca, and bowed my head three times as, I ! 
passed the threshold. — " Head of the mighty Amrou!" j 
thought I, on being ushered into a splendid saloon, " what ^ 
a display is here ! surely I am transported to the man- - 
sions of the Houris, the elysium of the faithful!" — How ,. 
tame appeared all the descriptions of enchanted palaces in | 
our Arabian poetry ! Where ever I turned my eyes, the ; 
quick glances of beauty dazzled my vision and ravished • 
my heart : lovely virgins fluttered by me, darting imperi- I 
al looks of conquest, or beaming such smiles of invitation, " 
as did Gabriel when he beckoned our holy prophet to } 
heaven. Shall I own the weakness of thy friend, good 
Muley 1 — while thus gazing on the enchanting scene be- 
fore me, I for a moment forgot my country, and even the 
memory of my three-and-twenty wives faded from my 
heart ; my thoughts were bewildered and led astray, by 
the charms of these bewitching savages, and I sunk, for 
a while, into that delicious state of mind where the senses, I 
all enchanted and all striving for mastery, produce an ;. 
endless variety of tumultuous, yet pleasing emotions. Oh, 
Muley, never shall I again wonder that an infidel should 
prove a recreant to the single solitary wife alloted him, 
when even thy friend, armed with all the precepts of 
Mahomet, can so easily prove faithless to three-and- 
twenty ! 

" Whither have you led me *?" said I, at length, to my 
companion, " and to whom do these beautiful creatures 
belong 1 certainly this must be the seraglio of the grand 
bashaw of the city, and a most happy bashaw must he 
be, to possess treasures which even his highness of tri- 
poli cannot parallel." "Have a care," cried my com- 
panion, " how you talk of seraglios, or you will have all ' 
these gentle nymphs about your ears ; for seragUo is a ^ 
word which beyond all others, they abhor : — most of .,^ 
them,'' continued he, " have no lord and master, but 
come here to catch one — they're in the market, as we , 
term it." " Ah, ha !" said I, exultingly, " then you 
really have a fedr, or slave market, such as we have in 
the East, where the faithful are provided with the choicest 
virgins of Georgia and Circassian — by our glorious 1 
sun of Afric, but I should like to select some ten or a ^ l|! 
dozen wives from so lovely an assemblage ! pray what | 
would you suppose they might be bought for 1" 



: 



Before I could receive an answer, my attention was 
attracted bv two or three good-looking middle-sized men, 



ir 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 231 

who being dressed in black, a colour universally worn in 
this country by the muftis and dervises, I immediately 
concluded to be high priests, and was confirmed in my 
original opinion that this was a religious ceremony. 
These reverend personages are entitled managers, and 
enjoy unlimited authority in the assemblies being armed 
with swords, with which, I am told, they would infalli- 
bly put any lady to death who infringed the laws of the 
temple. They walked round the room with great so- 
lemnity, and, with an air of profound importance and 
mystery, put a little piece of folded paper in each fair 
hand, which I concluded were religious talismans. One 
of them dropped on the floor, whereupon I slily put my 
foot on it, and, watching an opportunity, picked it up 
unobserved, and found it to contain some unintelligible 
words and the mystic number 9. What were its virtues 
I know not ; except that I put it in my pocket, and have 
hitherto been preserved from my fit of the lumbago, 
which I generally have about this season of the year ever 
since I tumbled into the well of Zim-zim on my pilgrim- 
age to Mecca. I enclose it to thee in this letter, presuming 
it to be particularly serviceable against the dangers of thy 
profession. 

Shortly after the distribution of these talismans, one 
of the high priests stalked into the middle of the room 
with great majesty, and clapped his hands three times : 
a loud explosion of music succeeded from a number of 
black, yellow, and white musicians, perched in a kind of 
cage over the grand entrance. The company were there- 
upon thrown into great confusion and apparent consterna- 
tion. — They hurried to and fro about the room, and at 
length formed themselves into little groups of eight per- 
sons, half male and half female; — the music struck into 
something like harmony, and, in a moment, to my utter 
astonishment and dismay, they were all seized with what 
I concluded to be a paroxysm of religious phrensy, tos- 
sing about their heads in a ludicrous style from side to 
side, and indul^inff in extravagant contortions of fiorure ; 
— now throwing their heels into the air, and anon whirl- 
ing round with the velocity of the eastern idolators, who 
think they pay a grateful homage to the sun by imitating 
his motions. I expected every moment to see them fall 
down in convulsions, foam at the mouth, and shriek with 
fancied inspiration. As usual the females seemed most 
fervent in their religious exercises, and performed them 



232 BEAUTIES OP 

with a melancholy expression of feature that was pecu- 
liarly touching ; but I was highly gratified by the exem- 
plary conduct of several male devotees, who, through their 
gesticulations would intimate a wild merriment of the 
feelings, maintained throughout as inflexible a gravity of 
countenance as so many monkeys of the island of Borneo 
at their antics. 

" And pray," said I, " who is the divinity that pre- 
sides in this splendid mosque?" — The divinity! Oh, I 
understand — you mean the belle of the evening ; we have 
a new one every season. — The one at present in fashion 
is that lady you see yonder, dressed in white, with pink 
ribbons, and a crowd of adorers around her." " Truly," 
cried I, " this is the pleasantest deity I have encountered 
in the whole course of my travels ; — so familiar, so con- 
descending, and so merry withal ; — why, her very wor- 
shippers take her by the hand, and whisper in her ear." 

* ' My good mussulman," replied my friend with great 
gravity, " I perceive you are completely in an error con- 
cerning the intent of this ceremony. You are now in a 
place of public amusement, not of public worship ; and 
the pretty looking young men you see making such vio- 
lent grotesque distortions are merely indulging in our 
favourite amusement of dancing." "I cry your mer- 
cy," exclaimed I, "these then are the dancing men and 
women of the town, such as we have in our principal 
cities, who hire themselves out for the entertainment of 
the wealthy ; — but, pray who pays them for this fatigu- 
ing exhibition 9" — My friend regarded me for a moment 
with an air of whimsical perplexity, as if doubtful whe- 
ther I was in jest or in earnest — '"Sblood man," cried 
he, "these are some of our greatest people, our fasliion- 
ables, who are merely dancing here lor amusement.'' 
Dancing for amusement 1 think of that, Muley ! — thou, 
whose greatest pleasure is to chew opium, smoke tobacco, 
loll on a couch, and doze thyself into the regions of the 
Houris ! — Dancing for amusement ! — shall I never cease 
having occasion to laugh at the absurdities of these bar- 
barians, who are laborious in their recreations, and indo 
lent only in their hours of business ! — Dancing for amuse- 
ment! — the very idea makes my bones ache, and I never 
think of it without being obhged to apply my handker- 
chief to my forehead, and fan myself into some degree of 
coolness. 

"And pray," said I, when my astonishment had a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 233 

little subsided, " do these musicians also toil for amuse- 
ment, or are they confined to their cage, like birds, to 
sing for the gratification of others 7 I should think the 
former was the case, from the animation with which they 
flourish their elbows. " Not so," replied my friend, 
" they are well paid, which is no more than just, for I 
assure you they are the most important personages in the 
room. The fiddler puts the whole assembly in motion, 
and directs their movements, like the master of a puppet- 
show, who sets all his pasteboard gentry kicking by a 
jerk of his fingers. — There now, look at that dapper lit- 
tle gentleman yonder, who appears to be sufiTering the 
pangs of dislocation in every limb : he is the most expert 
puppet in the room, and performs not so much for his 
own amusement, as for that of the bystanders." Just 
then, the little gentleman having finished one of his pa- 
roxysms of activity, seemed to be looking round for ap- 
plause from the spectators. Feeling myself really much 
obliged to him for his exertions, I made him a low bow 
of thanks, but nobody followed my example, which I 
thought a singular instance of ingratitude. 

Thou wilt perceive, friend Muley, that the dancing of 
these barbarians is totally different from the science pro- 
fessed by thee in Tripoli ; the country, in fact, is afflicted 
by numerous epidemical diseases, which travel from house 
to house, from city to city, with the regularity of a 
caravan. Among these, the most formidable is this danc- 
ing mania, which prevails chiefly throughout the winter. 
It at first seized on a few people of fashion, and being 
indulged in moderation was a cheerful exercise ; but in a 
little time, by quick advances, it infected all classes of the 
community, and became a raging epidemic. The doctors 
immediately, as is their usual way, instead of devising a 
remedy, fell together by the ears, to decide whether it was 
native or imported, and the sticklers for the latter opinion 
traced it to a cargo of trumpery from France, as they had 
before hunted down the yellow-fever to a bag of cofifee 
from the West-Indies. What makes this disease the 
more formidable is, that the patients seem infatuated with 
their malady, abandon themselves to its unbounded rava- 
ges, and expose their persons to wintry storms and mid- 
night airs, more fatal in this capricious climate, than the 
withering Simoon blast of the desert. 

I know not whether it is a sight most whimsical, or 
melancholy, to witness a fit of this dancing malady. The 

20* 



234 BEAUTIES OP 

lady hops up to the gentleman, who stands at the distance 
ivf about three paces, and then capers back again to her 
place ; — the gentleman of course does the same ; then they 
tkip one way, then they jump another; — then they turn 
their backs to each other ; — then they seize each other and 
shake hands ; then they whirl round, and throw them- 
selves into a thousand grotesque and ridiculous attitudes ; 
— sometimes on one leg, and sometimes on the other, and 
sometimes on no leg at all : and this they call exhibiting 
the graces ! By the nineteen thousand capers of the great 
jnountebank of damascus, but these graces must be some- 
thing like the crooked backed dwarf of Shabrac, who is 
sometimes permitted to amuse his Highness by imitating 
the tricks of a monkey. These fits continue for short 
.jitervals of from four to five hours, till at last the lady 
.6 led off, faint, languid, exhausted, and panting, to her 
carriage ; — rattles home ; — passes a night of feverish rest- 
lessness, cold perspirations, and troubled sleep ; rises late 
next morning, if she rises at all ; is nervous, petulant, or 
a prey to languid indifference all day ; a mere household 
spectre, neither giving nor receiving enjoyment ; in the 
evening hurries to another dance ; receives an unnatural 
exhilaration from the lights, the music, the crowd, and 
the unmeaning bustle ; — flutters, sparkles, and blooms for 
>}. while, until tiie transient delirium being past, the in- 
fatuated maid drops and languishes into apathy again ; — 
^ again led off to her carriage, and the next morning 
rises to go through exactly the same joyless routine. 

And yet, wilt thou believe it, my dear Raggi, these 
are '•ational beings ; nay, more, their countrymen woiild 
feiin persuade me they have souls ! Is it not a thousand 
times to be lamented that beings, endowed with charms 
that might warm even the frigid heart of a dervise; — 
with social and endearing powers, that would render them 
the joy and pride of the harem ; — should surrender them- 
selves to a habit of heartless dissipation, which preys im- 
perceptibly on the roses of the check ; which robs the 
eye of its lustre, the mouth of its dimpled smile, the spirits 
of their cheerful hilarity, and the limbs of their elastic 
viffour : — which hurries them off in the spring-time of 
existence ; or, if they survive, j^elds to the arms of a 
youthful bridegroom a frame wrecked in the storms of 
dissipation, and struggling with premature infirmity. 
Alas, Muley ! may I not ascribe to this cause the num- 
ber of little oki women I met with in this country, from 
the age of eighteen to eight-and-twenty 1 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 235 

In sauntering down the room, my attention was at- 
tracted by a smoky painting, which, on nearer examina- 
tion, I found consisted of two female figures crowning a 
bust with a wreath of laurel. " This, I suppose," cried 
I, "was some famous dancer in his time? " O, no," 
replied my friend, *' he was only a general." " Good ; 
but then he must have been great at a cotillion, or expert 
at a fiddle-stick — or why is his memorial here V " Gluite 
the contrary," answered my companion ; " history makes 
no mention of his ever having flourished a fiddle-stick, ©r 
figured in a single dance. You have no doubt, heard of 
him : he was the illustrious Washington, the father and 
deHverer of his country : and, as our nation is remarkable 
for gratitude to great men, it always does honour to their 
memory, by placing their monuments over the doors of 
taverns, or in the corners of dancing-rooms." 

From thence my friend and I strolled into a small 
apartment adjoining the grand saloon, where I beheld a 
number of grave looking persons with venerable gray 
heads, but without beards, which I thought very unbe- 
coming, seated round a table studying hieroglyphics. I 
approached them with reverence, as so many magi, or 
learned men, endeavouring to expound the mysteries of 
Egyptian science : several of them threw down money, 
which I supposed was a reward proposed for some great 
discovery, when presently one of them spread his hiero- 
glyphics on the table, exclaimed triumphantly, " Two 
bullets and a bragger !" and swept all the money into his 
pocket. He has discovered a key to the hieroglyphics, 
thought! — happy mortal! — no doubt, his name shall be 
immortalized. Willing, however, to be satisfied, 1 look- 
ed round on my companion with an inquiring eye ; he 
understood me, and informed me that these were a com- 
pany of friends, who had met together to win each other's 
money and be agreeable. "Is that alii" exclaimed I; 
•' why then, I pray you, make way, and let me escape 
from this temple of abominations, who knows but 
these people, who meet together to toil, worry, and fatigue 
themselves to death, and give it the name of pleasure-— 
and who win each other's money by way of being agree- 
able — may some one of them take a liking to me, and pick 
my pocket, or break my head in a paroxysm of hearty 
good-will !" 

Thy friend, 

MUSTAPHA. 



336 BEAUTIES OF 



JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND. 

James flourished nearly about the time of Chaucer and 
Gower, and was evidently an admirer and studier of 
their writings. Indeed, in one of his stanzas he acknow- 
ledges them as his masters ; and, in some parts of his 
poem, we find traces of similarity to their productions, 
more especially to those of Chaucer. There are always, 
however, general features of resemblance in the works 
of contemporary authors, wliich are not so much bor- 
rowed from each other as from the times. Writers, like 
bees, toil their sweets in the wide world ; they incorpo- 
rate with their own conceptions the anecdotes and thoughts 
which are current in society ; and thus each generation 
has some feature in common, characteristic «of the age in 
which it lived. 

James in fact belongs to one of the most brilliant eras 
of our hterary history, and establishes the claims of his 
country to a participation in its primitive honours. 
Whilst a small cluster of English writers are constantly 
cited as the fathers of our verse, the name of their great 
Scottish compeer is apt to be passed over in silence; but 
he is evidently worthy of being enrolled in that little con- 
stellation of remote but never- failing luminaries, who shine 
in the highest firmament of literature, and who, like mor- 
ning stars, sang together at the bright dawning of British 
poesy. 



How Peter Stuyvesant relieved the Sovereign People from 
the Burthen of taking Care of the Nation — with sun- 
dry Particulars of his Conduct in Time of Peace. 

The history of the reign of Peter Stuyvesant furnishes a 
melancholy picture of the incessant cares and vexations in- 
separable from government ; and may serve as a solemn 
warnino- to all who are ambitious of attaining the seat of 
power. Though crowned with victory, enriched by con- 
quest, and returning in triumph to his metropolis, his exul- 
tation was checked by beholding the sad abuses that had ta- 
ken place during the short interval of his absence. 
The populace, unfortunately for their own comfort, had 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 237 

taken a deep draught of the intoxicating cup of power, du- 
ring the reign of William the Testy ; and though, upon 
the accession of Peter Stuyvesant, they felt, with a certain 
instinctive perception, which mobs as well as cattle possess, 
that the reins of government had passed into stronger 
hands; yet they could not h'^lp fretting, and chaffing, and 
champing on the bit, in restive silence. 

It seems by some strange and inscrutable fatality, to be 
the destiny of most countries (and more especially of your 
enlightened republics,) always to be governed by the most 
incompetent man in the nation; so that you will scarcely 
find an individual throughcut the whole community, but 
who will detect to you innumerable errors in administra- 
tion, and convince you in the end, that had he been at the 
head of affairs, matters would have gone on a thousand 
times more prosperously. Strange ! that that government, 
which seems to be so generally understood, should inva- 
riably be so erroneously administered — strange, that the 
talent of legislation, so prodigally bestowed, should be de- 
nied to the only man in the nation to whose station it is 
requisite. 

Thus it was in the present instance, not a man of all the 
herd of psuedo-politicians in New-Amsterdam, but was an 
oracle on topics of state, and could have directed public af- 
fairs incomparably better than Peter Stuyvesant. But so 
severe was the old governor in his disposition that he would 
never suffer one of the multitude of able counsellors by 
whom he was surrounded, to intrude his advice, and save 
the country from destruction, 

Scarcely, therefore, had he departed on his expedition 
against the Swedes, than the old factions of William Kieft's 
reign began to thrust their heads above water, and to gather 
together in political meetings, to discuss "the state of the 
nation." At these assemblages the busy burgomasters 
and their officious schepens made a very considerable figure. 
These worthy dignataries were no longer the fat, well-fed, 
tranquil magistrates, that presided in the peaceful days of 
Wouter Van Twiller. On the contrary, being elected by 
the people, they formed in a manner a sturdy buhvark be- 
tween the mob and the administration. They were great 
candidates for popularity, and strenuous advocates for the 
rights of the rabble ; resembhng in disinterested zeal the 
wide-mouthed tribunes of ancient Rome, or those virtuous 
patriots of modern days, emphatically denominatod "the 
friends of the people." 



238 BEAUTIES OF 

Under the tuition of these profound poUticians it is 
astonishing how suddenly enhghtened the swinish mul- 
titude became, in matters above their comprehensions. 
Coblers, tinkers, and tailors, all at once felt themselves 
inspired, like those religious idiots, in the glorious times 
of monkish illuminaton ; and, without any previous study 
or experience, became instantly capable of directing all 
the movements of government. Nor must I neglect to 
mention a number of superannuated, wrong-headed old 
burghero, who had come over when boys, in the crew of 
the Goede Vrouw, and were held up as infallible oracles by 
the enlightened mob. To suppose that a man who had 
helped to discover a country did not know how it ought 
to be governed was preprosterous in the extreme. It would 
have been deemed as much a heresy as, at the present 
day, to question the poUtical talents and universal infal- 
libility of our old "heroes of '"70'' — and to doubt that he 
who had fought for a government, however stupid he 
might naturally be, was not competent to fill any station 
under it. 

But as Peter Stuyvesant had a singular inclination to go- 
vern his province without the assistance of his subjects, he 
felt highly incensed on his return to find the factious appear- 
ance they had assumed during his absence. His first mea- 
sure, therefore, was to restore perfect order, by prostrating 
the dignity of the sovereign people. 

He accordingly watched his opportunity, and one even- 
ing when the enlightened mob was gathered together, lis- 
tening to a patriotic speech from an inspired cobler the 
intrepid Peter, like his great namesake of all the Russias, 
all at once appeared among them, with a countenance suf- 
ficient to petrify a millstone. The whole meeting was 
thrown into consternation — the orator seemed to have re- 
ceived a paralytic stroke in the very middle of a sublime 
sentence, and stood aghast with open mouth and trembling 
knees, whilst the words horror ! tyranny! liberty! rights! 
taxes! death! destruction! and a deluge of other patrio- 
tic phrases came roaring from his throat, before he had 
power to close his lips. The shrewd Peter took no notice 
of the skulking throng around him but advancing to the 
brawUng bully ruffian, and drawing out a huge silver watch, 
which miffht have served in times of yore as a town-clock, 
and whick is still retained by his descendants as a family 
curiosity, requested the orator to mend it and set it going. 
The orator humbly confessed it was utterly out of his 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 289 

power as he was unacquainted with the nature of its con- 
struction. "Nay, but," said Peter, "try your ingenuity, 
man ; you see all the springs and wheels, and how easily 
the clumsiest hand may stop it, and pull it to pieces; and 
why should it not be equally easy to regulate as to stop 
it?' The orator declared that his trade was wholly dif- 
ferent, he was a poor cobler, and had never meddled 
with a watch in his life. That there were men skilled in 
the art, whose business it was to attend to those matters; 
but for his part he should only mar the workmanship, 
and put the whole in confusion — " Why, harkee, master 
of mine," cried Peter, turning suddenly upon him, with a 
countenance that almost petrified the patcher of shoes into 
a perfect lapstone — " dost thou pretend to meddle with 
the movements of government — to regulate and correct, 
and patch, and cobble, a complicated machine, the princi- 
ples of which are above thy comprehension, and its sim- 
plest operation too subtle for thy understanding, when thou 
canst not correct a trifling error in a common piece of me- 
chanism, the whole mystery of which is open to thy in- 
spection? — Hence with thee to the leather and stone, 
which are emblems of thy head ; cobble thy shoes, and 
confine thyself to the vocation for which heaven has fitted 
thee — But," elevating his voice until it made the welkin 
ring, "if ever I catch thee, or any of thy tribe, meddling 
again with the aflfairs of government — by St. Nicholas^ but 
111 have every mother's bastard of ye flea'd alive, and your 
hides stretched for drum-heads, that ye may thenceforth 
make a noise to some purpose !'' 

This threat, and the tremendous voice in which it was 
uttered, caused the whole multitude to quake with fear. 
The hair of the orator rose on his head like his own swine's 
bristles, and not a knight of the thunble present but his 
heart died within him and he felt as though he could have 
verily escaped through the eye of a needle. 

But though this measure produced the desired effect in 
reducing the community to order, yet it tended to injure 
the popvilarity of the great Peter among the enlightened 
vulgar. Many accused him of entertaining highly aristo- 
cratic sentiments and of leaning too much in favour of 
the patricians. Indeed there appeared to be some grounds 
for such an accusation, as he always carried himself with 
a very lofty soldier-like ]>ort, and was somewhat particulart 
in his dress; dressing himself when not in uniform, in 
simple but rich apparel; and was especially noted for 



240 BEAUTIES OP 

having his sound leg (which was a very comely one) 
always arrayed in a red stocking and high heeled shoe. 
Though a man ot" great simplicity of manners, yet there 
was somethiing about him that repelled rude familiarity, 
while it encouraged frank, and even social intercourse. 

He likewise observed some appearance of court cere- 
mony and etiquette. He received the common class 
of visiters on the stoop,* before his door, according to 
the custom of our Dutch ancestors. But when visiters 
were formally received in his parlour, it was expected 
they would appear in clean linen; by no means to be 
bare footed, and always to take their hats off. On public 
occasions he appeared with great pomp of equipage (for, 
in truth, his station required a little show and dignity,) and 
always rode to church in a yellow waggon with flaming' 
red wheels. 

These symptons of state and ceremony occasioned con- 
siderable discontent among the vulgar. They had been 
accustomed to find easy access to their former governors, 
and in particular had lived on terms of extreme femiliarity 
with William the Testy. They therefore were very impa- 
tient of these dignified precautions, which discouraged 
intrusion. But Peter Stuyvesant had his own way of 
thinking in these matters, and was a staunch upholder of 
the dignity of oflace. 

He always maintained that government to be the least 
popular, which is most open to popular access and con- 
trol ; and that the very brawlers against court ceremony, 
and the reserve of men in power, would soon despise 
rulers among whom they found even themselves to be of 
consequence. Such at least, had been the case with the 
administration of Wilham the Testy ; who, bent on making 
himself popular, had listened to every man's advice, suf- 
fered every person to have admittance to his person at all 
hours ; and, in a word, treated every one as his thorough 
equal. By this means every scrub poUtician and pub- 
lic busybody was enabled to measure v^rits with him, and 
to find out the true dimensions, not only of his person, 
but his mind. — And what great man can stand such 
scrutiny? 

It is the mystery that envelopes great men, that gives 



* Properly spelled stoeb : the' porch comiDonly built in front of 
Dutch bousco, with benches on each side. 



WASHINGTON IKVING. 241 

them half their greatness. We are always inclined to 
think highly of those who hold themselves aloof from GUI' 
examination. There is likewise a kind of superstitious 
reverence for office, which leads us to exaggerate the 
merits and abilities of men of power, and to suppose that 
they must be constituted different from other men. And, 
indeed, faith is as necessary in politics as in religion. It 
certainly is of the first importance, that a country should 
be governed by wise men; but then it is almost equally 
important, that the people should believe them to be wise ; 
for this belief alone can produce willing subordination. 

To keep up, therefore, this desirable confidence in 
rulers, the people should be allowed to see as little of 
them as possible. He who gains access to cabinets soon 
finds out by what foolishness the world is governed. He 
discovers that there is a quackery in legislation, as well as 
in every thing else ; that many a measure, which is sup- 
posed by the million to be the result of great wisdom and 
deep deliberation, is the eflfect of mere chance, or perhaps 
of hair-brained experiment. — That rulers have their whims 
and errors as well as other men, and after all are not so 
wonderfully superior to their fellow-creatures as he at first 
imagined ; since he finds that even his own opinions have 
had some weight with them. Thus awe subsides into con- 
fidence, confidence inspires familiarity, and familiarity 
produces contempt. Peter Stuyvesant, on the contrary, 
by conducting himself with dignity and loftiness, was 
looked up to with great reverence. As he never gave his 
reasons for any thing he did, the public always gave him 
credit for very profound ones. Every movement, however 
intrinsically ummportant, was a matter of speculation ; and 
his very red stocking excited some respect, as being dif- 
ferent from the stocking of other men. 

To these times we may refer the rise of family pride 
and aristocratic distinctions;* and indeed I cannot but 
look back with reverence to the early planting of those 
mighty Dutch famiUes, which have taken such vigorous 



* In a work pnblished many years after the time here treated of 
(in 1761, by C. W. A. M. )it is mentioned tiiat Frederick Philipse was 
counted the richest Mynheer in New- York, and was said to have 
iekole hogsheads of Indian money or wampum; and had a son 
and daughter, who according to the Dutch custom, should divide 
it equally. 

21 



242 BEAUTIES OF 

root, and branched out so luxuriantly in our state. The 
blood which has flowed down uncontaminated through a 
succession of steady, virtuous generations, since the times 
of the patriarchs of Communipaw, must certainly be pure 
and worthy. And if so, then are the Van Rensellaers, the 
Van Zandts, the Van Homes, the Rutgers, the Bensons^ 
the BrinkerhofFs, the Skermerhorns, and all the true de- 
scendants of the ancient Pavonians, the only legitmate no- 
bility and real lords of the soil. 

I have been led to mention thus particularly the well 
authenticated claims of our genuine Dutch families, be- 
cause I have noticed with great sorrow and vexation, that 
they have been somewhat elbowed aside in latter days, by 
foreign intruders. It is really astonishing to behold how 
many great famiUes have sprung up of late years, who 
pride themselves excessively on the score of ancestry. Thus 
he who can look up to his father without humiliation as- 
sumes not a little importance — he who can safely talk of 
his grandfather is still more vainglorious — but he who can 
look back to his great grandfather without blushing is abso- 
lutely intolerable in his pretensions to family. — Bless us ! 
what a piece of work is here, between these mushrooms of 
an hour and these mushrooms of a day ! 

But from what I have recounted in the former part of 
this chapter, I would not have my reader imagine that the 
great Peter was a tyrannical governor, ruling his subjects 
with a rod of iron — on the contrary, where the dignity of 
authority was not implicated, he abounded with gene- 
rosity and courteous condescension. In fact he really 
believed, though I fear my more enlightened republican 
readers will consider it a proof of his ignorance and illi- 
berality, that in preventing the cup of social life from 
being dashed with the intoxicating ingredient of politics, 
he promoted the tranquility and happiness of the people 
— and by detaching their minds from subjects which they 
could not understand, and which only tended to inflame 
their passions, he enabled them to attend more faithfully 
and industriously to their proper callings ; becoming more 
useful citizens and more attentive to their families and for- 
tunes. 

So far from having any unreasonable austerity, he de- 
lighted to see the poor and the labouring man rejoice, and 
for this purpose was a great promoter of holydays and 
public amusements. Under his reign was first Introduced 
the custom of cracking eggs at Pass or Easter. New- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 243 

Years Day was also observed with extravagant festivity — • 
and ushered in by the ringing of bells and firing of guns. 
Every house was a temple to the jolly god. Oceans of 
cherry-brandy, true hollands, and mulled cider, were set 
afloat on the occasion : and not a poor man in town but 
made it a point to get drunk, out of a principle of pure 
economy — taking in liquor enough to serve him half a year 
afterward. 

It would have done one's heart good also to have seen 
the valiant Peter, seated among the old burghers and their 
wives of a Saturday afternoon, under the great trees that 
spread their shade over the Battery, watching the young 
men and women as they danced on the green. Here he 
would smoke his pipe, crack his joke, and forget the rug- 
ged toils of war in the sweet oblivious festivities of peace. 
He would occasionally give a nod of approbation to those 
of the young men who shutfled and kicked most vigorous- 
ly, and now and then gave a hearty smack, in all honesty 
of soul, to the buxom lass that held out longest, and tired 
down all her competitors, which she considered as infalli- 
ble proofs of her being the best dancer. Once it is true the 
harmony of the meeting was rather interupted. A young 
vrouw, of great figure m the gay world, and who, having 
lately come from Holland, of course led the fashions in 
the city, made her appearance in not more than half a 
dozen petticoats, and these too of most alarming short- 
ness. — A universal whisper ran through the assembly; 
the old ladies all felt shocked in the extreme, the young 
ladies blushed and felt excessively for the '•' poor thing,'' and 
even the governor himself was observed to be a little trou- 
bled in mind. To complete the astonishment of the good 
folks, she undertook, in the couse of a jig, to describe some 
astonishing figures in algebra, which she had learned 
from adancino' master in Rotterdam. — Whether she was 
too animated in flourishing her feet, or whether some va- 
gabond Zephyr took the liberty of intruding his services, 
certain it is, that in the course of a grand evolution which 
would not have disgraced a modern ball room, she made a 
most unexpected display — whereat the whole assembly 
was thrown into great admiration, several grave country 
members were not a little moved, and the good Peter him- 
self, who was a man of unparalleled modesty, felt himself 
grievously scandalized. 

The shortness of the female dresses, which had conti- 
nued in fashion ever since the days of William Kieft, had 



244 BEAUTIES OF 

long offended his eyej and though extremely averse to 
meddling with the petticoats of the ladies, yet he imme- 
diately recommended that every one should be furnished 
with a flounce to the bottom. He likewise ordered that 
the ladies, and indeed the gentlemen, should use no other 
step in dancing than shuffle and turn, and double trouble ; 
and forbade, under pain of his high displeasure, any young 
lady thenceforth to attempt what was termed "exhibiting 
the graces," 

These were the only restrictions he ever imposed upon 
the sex; and these were considered by them as tyrannical 
oppressions, and resisted with that becoming spirit always 
manifested by the gentle sex whenever their privileges are 
invaded, — In fact, Peter Stuyvesant plainly perceived, that 
if he attempted to push the matter any farther, there was 
danger of their lea\ing off petticoats altogether ; so, like a 
vnse man experienced in the ways of women he held his 
peace, and suffered them ever after to wear their petticoats 
and cut their capers as high as they pleased. 



Showing the great Difficulty Philosophers have had in 
peopling America — and how the Aborigines came to be 
begotten by Accident, to the great Relief and Satisfac- 
tion of the Author. 

The next inquiry at which we arrive in the regular course 
of our history, is to ascertain, if possible, how this coun- 
try was originally peopled ; a point fruitful of incredible 
embarrassments ; for unless we prove that the aborigines 
did absolutely come from somewhere, it will be immedi- 
ately asserted in this age of scepticism, that they did not 
come at all ; and if they did not come at all, then was this 
country never populated — a conclusion perfectly agreeable 
to the rules of logic, but wholly irreconcilable to every 
feeling of humanity, inasmuch as it must syllogistically 
prove fatal to the innumerable aborigines of tliis populous 
region. 

To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from logical 
annihilation so many millions of iellow creatures, how 
many wings of geese have been plundered ! what oceans 
of ink have been benevolently drained ! and how many 
capacious heads of learned historians have been addled 
and for ever confounded ! I pause with reverential awe, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 245 

when I contemplate the ponderous tomes in different lan- 
guages, with which they have endeavoured to solve this 
question, so important to the happiness of society but so 
involved in clouds of inpenetrable obscurity. Historian 
after historian has engaged in the endless circle of hy- 
pothetical argument, and after leading us a weary chase 
through octavos, quartos, and folios, has let us out, at the 
end of his work, just as wise as we were at the beginning. 
It was doubtless some philosophical wild-goose chase of 
the kind, that made the old poet Macrobius rail in such a 
passion at curiosity, which he anathematizes most heartily 
as " an irksome, agonizing care, a superstitious industry 
about unprofitable things, an itching humour to see what 
is not to be seen, and to be doing what signifies nothing 
when it is done.'' But to proceed : 

Of the claims of the children of Noah to the original 
population of this country I shall say nothing, as they 
have already been touched upon in my last chapter. The 
claimants next in celebrity are the descendants of Abra- 
ham. Thus Christoval Colon (vulgarly called Columbus,) 
when he first discovered the gold mines of Hispaniola, 
immediately concluded, with a shrewdness that would 
have done honour to a philosopher, that he had found the 
ancient Ophir, from whence Solomon procured the Gold 
for embellishing the temple at Jerusalem : nay. Colon 
even imagined that he saw the remains of furnaces of ve- 
ritable Hebraic construction, employed in refining the 
precious ore. 

So golden a conjecture, tinctured with such fascinating 
extravagance, was too tempting not to be immediately 
snapped at by the gudgeons of learning ; and accordingly, 
there were divers profound writers, ready to swear to its 
correctness, and bring in their usual load of authorities 
and wise surmises, wherewithal to prop it up. Vatablus 
and Robertus Stephens declared nothing could be more 
clear : Arius Montanus, without the least hesitation, as- 
serts that Mexico was the true Ophir, and the Jews the 
early settlers of the country : while Possevin, Becan, and 
several other sagacious writers, lug in a supposed pro- 
phecy of the fourth book of Esdras, which being inserted 
in the mighty hypothesis, like the key stone of an arch, 
gives it in their opinion perpetual durability. 

Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly 
superstructure than in trudges a phalanx of opposite au- 
thors, with Hans de Laet, the great Dutchman, at their 

21* 



246 BEAUTIES OF 

head ; and at one blow tumbles the whole fabric about 
their ears. Hans, in fact, contradicts outright all the 
Israelitish claims to the first settlements of this country, 
attributing all those equivocal symptoms, and traces oif 
Christianity and Judaism, which have been said to be 
found in divers provinces of the New World, to the Devil. 
who has always affected to counterfeit the worship of the 
true Deity. "A remark," says the knowing old Padre 
d'Acosta, " made by all good authors who have spoken 
of the religion of nations newly discovered, and founded 
besides on the authority of the fathers of the church.'* 

Some writers again, among whom it is with great re- 
gret I am compelled to mention Lopes de Gomoraand Juan 
de Leri, insinuate that the Cananites, being driven from 
the land of promise by the Jews, were seized with such a 
panic that they fled, vdthout looking behind them, until 
stopping to take breath, they found themselves safe in 
America. As they brought neither their national lan- 
guage, manners, nor features with them, it is supposed 
they left them behind in the hurry of their flight. I 
cannot give my faith to this opinon. 

I pass over the supposition of the learned Grotius, who 
being both an ambassador and a Dutchman to boot, is 
entitled to great respect; that North America was peo- 
pled by a strolUng company of Norwegians, and that 
reru was founded by a colony from China — Manco, or 
Mungo Capac, the first Incas, being liimself a Chinese. 
Nor shall I more than barely mention, that father Kir- 
cher ascribes the settlement of America to the Egyptians, 
Budbeck to the Scandinavians, Charron to the Gauls, 
Juffredus Petri to a skating party from Friesland, Mi- 
lius to the Celtae, Marinocus the Sicilian to the Romans, 
Le Comte to the Phoenicians, Postel to the Moors, Mar- 
tin d' Angleria to the Abyssinians, together with the sage 
surmise of De Laet, that England, Ireland and the Or- 
cades may contend for that honour. 

Nor will I bestow any more attention or credit to the 
idea that America is the fairy region of Zipangri, described 
by that dreaming traveller Marco Polo the Venetian; or 
that it comprises the visionary island of Atlantis, described 
by Plato. Neither will I stop to investigate the heathen- 
ish assertion of Paracelsus, that each hemisphere of the 
globe was originally furnished with an Adam and Eve : 
or the more flattering opinion of Dr. Romayne, supported 
hy many nameless authorities, that Adam was of the In- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 247 

dian race : or the startling conjecture of Buffon, Hel- 
vetius, and Darwin, so highly honourable to mankind, 
that the whole human species is accidentally descended 
from a remarkable family of the monkeys ! 

This last conjecture, I must own came upon me very 
suddenly and very ungraciously. I have often beheld the 
clown in a pantomime, while gazing in stupid wonder at 
the extravagant gambols of a harlequin, all at once elec- 
trified by a sudden stroke of the wooden sword across his 
shoulders. Little did I think at such times that it would 
ever fall to my lot to be treated with equal discourtesy, 
and that while I was quietly beholding these grave philo- 
sophers emulating the eccentric transformations of the 
hero of pantomime, they would on a sudden turn upon me 
and my readers, and with one hypothetical flourish meta- 
morphose us into beasts ! I determined from that moment 
not to burn my fingers with any more of their theories, 
but content myself with detailing the diflferent methods by 
which they transported the descendants of these ancient 
and respectable monkeys, to this great field of theoretical 
warfare. 

This was done either by migrations by land or trans- 
migrations by water. Thus Padre Joseph d'Acosto enu- 
merates three passages by land, first by the north of Eu- 
rope, secondly by the north of Asia, and thirdly by regions 
southward of the straits of Magellan. The learned Gro- 
tius marches his Norwegians by a pleasant route across 
frozen rivers and arms of the sea, through Iceland, Green- 
land, Estotiland, and Naremberga. And various wrriters, 
among whom are Angleria, De Hornn, and Buffon, anx- 
ious for the accommodation of these travellers, have fas- 
tened the two continents together by a strong chain of de- 
ductions — by which means they could pass over dryshod. 
But should even this fail, Pinkerton, that industrious old 
gentleman, who compiles books and manufactures Geo- 
graphies, has constructed a natural bridge of ice, from 
continent to continent, at the distance of four or five miles 
from Behring's straits — for which he is entitled to the 
grateful thanks of all the wandering aborigines who ever 
did or ever will pass over it. 

It is an evil much to be lamented, that none of the wor- 
thy writers above quoted, could ever commence his work, 
without immediately declaring hostilities against every 
writer who had treated on the same subject. In this par- 
ticular, authors may be compared to a certain sagacious 



248 BEAUTIES OP 

bird, which in building its nest is sure to pull to pieces 
the nests of all the birds in its neighbourhood. This un- 
happy propensity tends grievously to impede the progress 
of sound knowledge. Theories are at best but brittle 
productions, and when once committed to the stream, 
they should take care that like the notable pots which 
were fellow voyagers, they do not crack each other. 

For my part, when I beheld the sages I have quoted 
gravely accounting for unaccoutable things, and discours- 
ing thus vnsely about matters for ever hidden from their 
eyes, like a blind man describing the glories of light, and 
the beauty and harmony of colours, I fell back in astonish- 
ment at the amazing extent of human ingenuity. 

If, cried I to myself, these learned men can weave whole 
systems out of nothing, what would be their productions 
were they furnished with substantial materials — if they can 
argue and dispute thus ingeniously about subjects beyond 
their knowledge, what would be the profundity of their 
observations, did they but know what they were talking 
about ! Should old Rhadamanthus, when he comes to 
decide upon their conduct while on earth, have the least 
idea of the usefulness of their labours, he will undoubtedly 
class them with those notorious wise men of Gotham, who 
milked a bull, tv/isted a rope of sand, and wove a velvet 
purse from a sow's ear. 

My chief surprise is, that among the many writers 1 
have noticed, no one has attempted to prove that this 
country was peopled from the moon — or that the first in- 
habitants floated hither on islands of ice, as white bears 
cruise about the northern oceans — or that they were con- 
veyed hither by balloons, as modern aeronauts pass from 
Dover to Calais — or by witchcraft, as Simon Magus 
posted among the stars — or after the manner of the re- 
nowned Scythian Abaris, who, like the New-England 
witches on full blooded broomsticks made most unheard- 
of journeys on the back of a golden arrow, given him by 
the Hyperborean Apollo 

But there is still one mode left by which this country 
could have been peopled, which I have reserved for the 
last, because I consider it worth all the rest ; it is — by 
accident! Speaking of the islands of Solomon, New- 
Guinea, and New-Holland, the profound father Charle- 
voix observes, " in fine, all these countries are peopled, 
and it is possible, some have been so by accident. Now 
if it could have happened in that manner, why might it 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 249 

not have been at the same time, and by the same means, 
with the other parts of the globe T This ingenious mode 
of deducing certain conclusions from possible premises, is 
an improvement on syllogistic skill, and proves the good 
father superior even to Archimedes, for he can turn the 
world without any thing to rest his lever upon. It is only 
surpassed by the dexterity with which the sturdy old Je- 
suit, in another place, cuts the gordian knot — "Nothing," 
says he, " is more easy. The inhabitants of both hemis- 
pheres are certainly the descendants of the same father. 
The common father of mankind received an express order 
from Heaven to people the world, and accordingly it has 
been peopled. To Ijring this about, it was necessary to 
overcome all difficulties in the way, aiid they have also 
been overcome .'" Pious Logician ! How does he put all 
the herd of laborious theorists to the blush, by explaining 
in five words, what it has cost them volumes to prove 
they know nothing about ! 

They have long been picking at the lock, and fretting 
at the latch, but the honest father at once unlocks the door 
by bursting it open, and when he has it once ajar, he is 
at full liberty to pour in as many nations as he pleases. 
This proves to a demonstration that a little piety is better 
than a cart-load of philosophy, and is a practical illustra- 
tion of that scriptural promise — " By faith ye shall move 
mountains." 

Prom all the authorities here quoted, and a variety of 
others which I have consulted, but which are omitted 
through fear of fatiguing the unlearned reader — I can 
only draw the following conclusion, which, luckily how- 
ever, are sufficient for my purpose — First, That this part 
of the world has actually been peopled (Gl. E. D. :) to 
support which we have living proofs in the numerous 
tribes of Indians that inhabit it. Secondly That it has 
been peopled in five hundred different ways, as proved 
by a cloud of authors, who from the positiveness of their 
assertions, seem to have been eye-witness to the fact — 
Thirdly, That the people of this country had a variety of 
fathers, which as it may not be thought much to their 
credit by the common run of readers, ttie less we say on 
the subject the better. The question, therefore, I trust is 
for ever at rest. 



250 BEAUTIES OF 



WOUTER VAN TWILLER. 

The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van T wilier was 
descended from a long line of Dutch burgomasters, who 
had successively dozed away their lives, and grown fat 
upon the bench of magistracy in Rotterdam ; and who 
had comported themselves with such singular wisdom and 
propriety that they were never either heard or talked of — 
which, next to being universally applauded, should be the 
object of ambition to all sage magistrates and rulers. 

His surname of T wilier is said to be a corruption of 
the original Twijjler, which in Enghsh xaeaxi?, doubter ; a 
name admirably descriptive of his deliberative habits. 
For though he was a man shut up within himself like an 
oyster, and of such a profoundly reflective turn that he 
scarcely ever spoke except in monosyllables; yet did he 
never make up his mind on any doubtful point. This 
was clearly accounted for by his adherents, who affirmed 
that he always conceived every subject on so comprehen- 
sive a scale that he had not room in his head to turn it 
over and examine both sides of it ; so that he always re- 
mained in doubt, merely in consequence of the astonishing 
magnitude of his ideas ! 

There are two opposite ways by which some men get 
into notice — one by talking a vast deal and thinking a lit- 
tle, and the other by holding their tongues and not think- 
ing at all. By the first many a vapouring superficial 
pretender acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts, 
— ^by the other, many a vacant dunderpate like the owl, 
the stupidest of birds, comes to be complimented by a 
discerning world, with all the attributes of wisdom. This, 
by the way, is a mere casual remark, which I would not 
for the universe have it thought I apply to Governor Van 
Twiller. On the contrary, he was a very wise Dutchman, 
for he never said a foolish thing ; and of such invincible 
gravity that he was never known to laugh, or even to 
smile, through the course of a long and prosperous life. 
Certain, however, it is, there never was a matter proposed, 
however simple, and on which your common narrow 
minded mortals would rashlv determine at the first glance, 
but what the renowned Wouter put on a mighty myste- 
rious, vacant kind of look, shook his capacious head, and 
having smoked for five minutes with redoubled earnest- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 251 

ness, sagely observed, that "he had his doubts about 
the matter;" — which, in process of time gained him the 
character of a man slow of belief, and not easily imposed 
on. 

The person of this illustrious old gentleman was as re- 
gularly formed, and nobly proportioned, as though it had 
been moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch sta- 
tuary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He 
was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet five 
inches in circumference. His heatl was a perfect sphere, 
far excelling in magnitude that of the great Pericles (who 
was thence waggishly called Schenocephalus, or onion 
head) — indeed, of such stupendous dimensions was it, that 
dame Nature herself, with aU her sex's ingenuity, would 
have been puzzled to construct a neck capable of support- 
ing it ; wherefore she wisely declined the attempt, and 
settled it firmly on the top of his back-bone, just between 
the shoulders ; where it remained, as snugly bedded as a 
ship of war in the mud of Potowmac. His body was 
of an oblong form, particularly capacious at bottom ; which 
was wisely ordered by providence, seeing that he was a 
man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labour 
of walking. His legs, though exceeding short, were 
sturdy in proportion to the weight they had to sustain; 
so that when erect he had not a little the appearance of 
a robustious beer barrel, standing on skids. His face, 
that infallible index of the mind, presented a vast expanse 
perfectly unfurrowed or deformed by any of those lines 
and angles which disfigure the human countenance vdth 
what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes twinkled 
feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser magnitude, 
in a hazy firmament ; and his full-fed checks, which seemed 
to have taken toll of every thing that went into his mouth, 
were curiously mottled and streaked with dusky red, like a 
Spitzemburg apple. 

His habits were as regular as his person. He daily 
took his four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour 
to each ; he smoked and doubted eight hours, and he slept 
the remaining twelve of the four-and-twenty. Such was 
the renowned Wouter Van Twiller — a true philosopher, 
for his mind was either elevated above, or tranquilly set- 
tled below, the cares and perplexities of this world. He 
had lived in it for years, without feeling the least curiosity 
to know whether the sun revolved around it, or it round 
the sun ; and he had even watched for at least half a cen- 



252 BEAUTIES OF 

tury, the smoke curling from his pipe to the ceiling, with- 
out once troubUng his head with any of those numerous 
theories, by which a philosodher would have perplexed his 
brain, in accounting for its arising above the surrounding 
atmosphere. 

In his council he presided with great state and solem- 
nity. He sat in a huge chair of solid oak hewn in the 
celebrated forest of the Hague, fabricated by an experi- 
enced Timmerman of Amsterdam, and curiously carved 
about the arms and feet, into exact imitations of gigantic 
eagle's claws. Instead of a sceptre, he swayed a long 
Turkish pipe, wrought with jasmin and amber, which had 
been presented to a stadtholder of Holland at the con- 
clusion of a treaty with one of the petty barbary powers. 
In this stately chair would he sit, and this magnificent 
pipe would he smoke, shaking his right knee with a con- 
stant motion, and fixing his eyes for hours together upon 
a little print of Amsterdam, which hung in a black frame 
against the opposite wall of the council chamber. Nay, 
it has even been said, that when any deliberation of ex- 
traordinary length and intricacy was on the carpet, the 
renowned Wouter would absolutely shut his eyes for full 
two hours at a time, that he might not be disturbed by 
external objects ; and at such times the internal commo- 
tion of his mind was evinced by certain regular guttural 
sounds, wlaich his admirers declared were merely the 
noise of conflict made by his contending doubts and 
opinions. 

It is with infinite difficulty I have been enabled to col- 
lect these biographical anecdotes of the great man under 
consideration. The facts respecting him were so scatter- 
ed and vague, and divers of them so questionable in point 
of authenticity, that I have had to give up the search af- 
ter many, and decline the admission of still more, which 
would have tended to heighten the colouring of his por- 
trait. 

I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the 
person and habits of the renowned Van T wilier, from the 
consideration that he was not only the first, but also the 
best governor that ever presided over this ancient and 
respectable province ; and so tranquil and benevolent was 
his reign that I do not find, throughout the whole of it, a 
single instance of any oflfender being brought to punish- 
ment ; — a most indubitable sign of a merciful governor 
and a case unparalleled, excepting in the reign of the illus- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 253 

trious King Log, from whom, it is hinted, the renowned 
Van Twiller was a Uncal descen- lant. 

The ver\" outset of the career of this excellent magis- 
trate, Hke that of Solomon, or to speak more appropri- 
ately, like thit of the illustrious governor of Barataria, 
was distinguished by an example of legal acumen, that 
gave flattering presage of a wise and equitable administra- 
tion. The very morning after he had been solemnly in- 
st died in office; and at the moment that he was making 
his breakfast froin a prodigious earthen dish, filled with 
milk and Indian puddiug, he was suddenly interrupted by 
the appearance of one V/andle Schoonhoven, a very im- 
portant old burgher of New- Amsterdam, who complained 
bis^terlv of one Barent Bleecker, inasmuch as he fraudu- 
leutly refused to come to a settlement of accounts, seeing 
that there was a heavy balance in favour of the said Wan- 
die. Governor Van Twiller, as I have already observed, 
was a man of few words; he was likewise a mortal 
enemy to multiplying writings, or being disturbed at his 
breakfast. Having listened attentively to the statement 
of Wandle Schoonhoven, giving an occasionable grunt, as 
he shovelled a mighty spoonful of Indian pudding into 
his mouth — either as a sign that he relished the dish, or 
comprehended the story : he called unto him his consta- 
ble, and pulling out of his breeches pocket a huge jack- 
knife, despatched it after the defendant as a summons, 
accompanied by his tobacco box as a warrant. 

This summary process was as effectual in those simple 
days as was the seal ring of the great Haroun Alraschid 
auiong the true behevers. The two parties, being con- 
fronted before him, each produced a book of accounts, 
written in a language and character that would have puz- 
zled any but a high Dutch commentator, or a learned de- 
cipherer of Egyptian obelisks, to understand. The sage 
Wouter took them one ;ifter the other, and having poised 
them in his hands, and attentively counted over the num- 
ber of leaves, fell straightway into a very great doubt^ and 
smoked for half an hour without saying a word ; at length,, 
laying his finger beside his nose, and shutting hia eyes for 
a moment, with the air of a man who has just caught a. 
subtle idea by the tail, he slowly took his pipe from his 
mouth, puffed forth a column of tobacco smoke, and with 
marvellous gravity and solemnity pronounced — that hav- 
ing carefully counted over the iea,ves, and weighed the 
books, it was found, that one was just as thick and a& 



954 BEAUTIES OF 

heavy as the other — therefore it was the final opinion o 
the court, that the accounts! were equally balanced — there- 
fore Wandle should give Barent a receipt, and Barent 
should give Wandle a receipt — and the constable should 
pay the costs. 

This decision being straightway made known, diffused 
general joy throughout New-Amsterdam; for the people 
immediately perceived, that they had a very wise and 
equitable magistrate to rule over them. But its happiest 
effect was, that not another lawsuit took place throughout 
the whole of his administration ; and the office of consta- 
ble fell into such decay, that there was not one of those 
losel scouts known in the province for many years. I am 
the more particular in dwelling on this transaction, not 
only because I deem it one of the most sage and right- 
eous judgments on record, and well worthy the attention of 
modern magistrates, but because it was a miraculous event 
in the history of the renowned Wouter — being the only 
time he was ever known to come to a decision, in the 
whole course of his life. 



The Grand Council of New-Amsterdam — with Reasons 
why an Alderman should be Fat, 

To assist the doubtful Wouter in the arduous busmess of 
legislation, a board of magistrates was appointed, which 
presided immediately over the police. This potent body 
consisted of a schout or bailiff, with powers between those 
of the present mayor and sheriff; five burgermeestcrs, who 
were equivalent to aldermen ; and five schepens, who offi- 
ciated as scrubs, sub-devils, or bottle-holders, to the bur- 
germeestcrs, in the same manner as do assistant alderman 
to their principals at the present day — it being their duty 
to fill the pipes of the lordly burgermeesters, hunt the 
markets for delicacies for corporation dinners, and to dis- 
charge such other little offices of kindness, as were occa- 
sionally required. It was, moreover, tacitly understood, 
though not specifically enjoined, that they should con- 
sider themselves as butts for the blunt wits of the bur- 
germeesters, and should laugh most heartily at all their 
jokes ; but this last was a duty as rarely called in action 
in those days as it is at present, and was shortly remitted, 
in consequence of the tragical death of a fat little schepen, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 255 

who actually died of suffbcation in an unsuccessful effort 
to force a laugh at one of burgermeester Van Zandt's 
best jokes. 

In return for these humble services, they were permitted 
to say, yes and no at the council board, and to have that 
enviable privilege, the run of the public kitchen ; being 
graciously permitted to eat, and drink, and smoke, at all 
those snug junkettings, and public gormandizings, for 
which the ancient magistrates vpere equally famous with 
their more modern successors. The post of schepen, there- 
fore, like that of assistant alderman, was eagerly coveted 
by all your burghers of a certain description, who have a 
huge relish for good feeding, and an humble ambition to 
be great men in a small way — who thirst after a little 
brief authority, that shall render them the terror of the 
alms-house and the bridewell — that shall enable them to 
lord it over obsequeous poverty, vagrant vice, outcast pros- 
titution, and hunger-driven dishonesty — that shall place 
in their hands the lesser, but galUng scourge of the law, 
and give to their beck a houndlike pack of catchpoles and 
bum-bailiffs — tenfold greater rogues than the culprits they 
hunt down ! — My readers will excuse this sudden warmth, 
which I confess is unbecoming of a grave historian ; but 
I have a mortal antipathy to catchpoles, bum-bailifis, and 
little great men. 

The ancient magistrates of this city corresponded with 
those of the present time no less in form, magnitude, and 
intellect, than in prerogative and privilege. The burgo- 
masters, like our aldermen, were generally chosen by 
w^eight ; and not only the weight of the body, but likewise 
the weight of the head. It is a maxim practically observed 
in all honest, plain thinking, regular cities, that an alder- 
man should be fat — and the wisdom of this can be proved 
to a certainty. That the body is in some measure an 
image of the mind, or rather that the mind is moulded to 
the bod}', like melted lead to the clay in which it is cast, 
has been insisted on by many men of science, who have 
made human nature their peculiar study. For as a learned 
gentleman of our own city observes, " there is a constant 
relation between the moral character of all intelliirent crea- 
tures and their physical constitution — between their habits 
and the structure of their bodies.'' Thus we see, that a 
lean, spare, diminutive body is generally accompanied by 
a petulant, restless, meddling mind. Either the mind wears 
down the body by its continual motion ; or else the body, 



256 KEAIITIES OP 

not affording the mind suffif^icnt house-room, keeps it 
continually in a state of frott'ulness, tossing and worrying 
about, from the uneasiness^f its situation. Whereas your 
round, sleek, fat, unweildy periphery is ever attended by a 
mind like itself, tranquil torpid, and at ease; and we may 
always observe, that your well-fed, robusteous burorhers are 
in general very tenacious of their ease and comfort; being 
great enemies to noise, discord, and disturbance : and 
surely none are more likely to study the public tranquility 
than those who are so careful of their own. Whoever 
liears of fat man heading a riot, or herdincr tocether in 
turbulent mobs? — No — no — it is your lean, hungry men, 
who are continually worrying society, and setting the whole 
community by tlie ears. 

The divine Plato, whose doctrines are not sufficiently 
attended to by Philosophers of the present age, allows to 
every man three souls: one immortal and rational, seated 
in the brain, that it may overlook and regulate the body 
— a second consisting of the surly and irrascible passions, 
which, like belligerent powers, lie encamped around the 
heart — a third mortal and sensual, destitute of reason, 
gross and brutal in its propensities, and enchained in the 
belly, that it may not disturb the divine soul, by its raven- 
ous bowlings. Now, according to this excellent theory, 
what can be more clear, than that your fit alderman is 
most likely to have the most regular and well conditioned 
mind. His head is like a huge, spherical chamber, con- 
taining a prodigious mass of soft brains, whereon the ra- 
tional soul lies softly and snugly couched, as on a feather 
bed; and the eyes, which are the windows of the bed- 
chamber, are usually half closed, that its slumberings may 
not be disturbed by external objects. A mind thus com- 
fortably lodged, and protected from disturbance, is mani- 
festly most likely to perform its functions with regularity 
and ease. By dint of good feeding, morever, the mortal 
and malignant soul, which is confined in the belly, and 
which by its rafrinji and roarino;, nuts the irritable soul in 
the neighbourhood of the heart in an intolerable passion, 
and thus renders men crusty and quarrelsome when hun- 
gry — is completely pacified, silenced, and put to rest : 
whereupon a host of honest good-fellow qualities, and 
kind hearted affections, which had laid in perdue, slily 
peeping out of the loopholes of the heart, finding this Cer- 
berus asleep, do pluck up their spirits, turn out one and all 
in their holiday suits, and gambol up and down the dia- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 257 

phraghm— -disposing their possessor to laughter, good hu- 
mour, and a thousand friendly offices towards his fellow 
mortals. 

As a board of magistrates, formed on this model, think 
but very little, they are less likely to diiier and wrangle 
about favourite opinions ; and as they generally transact 
business upon a hearty dinner, they are naturally disposed 
to be lenient and indulgent in the administration of their 
duties. Charlemagne Was conscious of this, and therefore 
(a pitiful measure, for which I can never forgive him,) 
ordered in his cartularies, that no judge should hold a 
court of justice, except in the morning, on an empty sto- 
mach. — A rule which, I waiTant, bore hard upon all the 
poor culprits in his kingdom. The more enlightened and 
humane generation of the present day have taken an op- 
posite course, and have so managed that the alderman 
arc the best fed men in the community ; feasting lustily 
on the fat things of the land, and gorging so heartily oys- 
ters and turtles, that in process of time they acquire the 
activity of the one, and the from, the waddle, and the 
green fat of the other. The consequence is, as I have 
just said ; these luxurious feastings do produce such a 
dulcet equanimity and repose of the soul, rational and 
irrational, that their transactions are proverbial for unva- 
rying monotony ; and the profound laws, which they enact 
in their dozing moments, amid the labours of digestion, 
are quietly suffered to remain as dead letters, arul never 
enforced, when awake. In a word, your fair round bel- 
lied burgomaster, like a full fed mastiff, dozes quietly at 
the house door, always at home, and always at hand to 
watch over its safety : but as to electing a lean, meddling 
candidate to the office, as has now and then been done, 1 
"would as lief put a greyhound to watch the house, or a race- 
horse to drag an ox-waggon. 

The burgomasters then, as I have already mentioned, 
were wisely chosen by weight, and the schepins or assis- 
tant Alderman, were appointed to attend upon thein, and 
help them to eat ; but the latter in the course of time, when 
they have been fed and fattened into suHirient bulk cf body 
and drowsiness of brain, became very eligible candidates 
for the Imrgomasters' chair; have fairly eaten themselves 
into office, as a mouse oats its way into a comfortable lodg- 
ment in a goodly blue-nosed, skimmed milk, Nevv-EnglaiMl 
cheese. 

22 * 



( 258 ) 



ICHABOD CRANE AND THE GALLOPING 

HESSIAN. 



From the Sketch-Booh 



It was the very witchinrr time of night that Tchabod, 
heavy-hearted, and crest-fallen, pursued his travel home- 
wards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above 
Tarry-Town, and which he had traversed so cheerily in 
the afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. 
Far below him, the Tajtpan Zee spread its dusky and 
indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the tall 
mast of a sloop, riding quietly at anchor under the lane. 
In the dead hush of midnight, he could even bear the 
barking of the watch-dog from the opposite shore of the 
Hudson ! but it was so vague and faint as only to give 
an idea of his distance from this faithful companion of 
man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a 
cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off, 
from some farm-house away among the hills — but it was 
like the dreaming sound in his ear. No sijrns of life oc- 
curred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of 
a cricket, or perhaps the gutteral twang of a bull-frog, 
from a neighbouring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably, 
and turning suddenly in his bed. 

All the stories of ghosts and goblins tliat he had heard 
in the afternoon, now came crowding upon his recollec- 
tion. The night grew darker and darker ; the stars 
seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds oc- 
casionally hid thera from his sight. He had never felt 



WASHINGTON IRVING 259 

SO lonely and dismal. He was, moreover, approaching 
the very place where many of the scenes of the ghost 
stories had been laid. In the centre of the road stood an 
enormous tulip tree, which towered like a giant above all 
the other trees of the neighbourhood, and formed a kind 
of land-mark. Its limbs were gnarled, and fantastic, 
large enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting 
down almost to the earth, and .rising again into the air. 
It was connected with the tragical story of the unfortu- 
nate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard by ; and 
was universally known by the name of Major Andre's 
tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture of 
respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for the 
fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the tales 
of strange sights, and doleful lamentations told concern- 
mg it. 

As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he be^an to 
whistle : he thought his whistle was answered ; it was 
but a blast sweeping sharply through the dry banches. 
As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw some- 
thing white, hanging in the midst of the tree ; he paused 
and ceased whistling ; but on looking more narrowly, 
perceived that it was a place where the tree had been 
scathed by lightning, and the white wood laid bare. 
Suddenly he heard a groan — his teeth chattered, and his 
knees smote against the saddle : It was but the rubbing 
of one huge branch upon another, as they were swayed 
about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but 
new perils lay before him. 

About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook 
crossed the road, aud ran into a marsliy and thickly wood- 
ed glen, known by the name of Wiley's swamp. A few 
rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this 
stream. On that side of the road where the brook en- 
tered the wood, a group of oaks and chesnuts, matted 
thick with wild grape vines, threw a cavernous gloom 
over it. To pass this bridge, was the severest trial. It 
was at this identical spot that the unfortunate Andre 
was captured, and under the covert of those chesnuts 
and vines were the sturdy yeomen concealed who surprised 
him. This has ever since been considered a haunted 
stream, and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who 
has to pass it alone after dark. 

As he approached the stream, his heart began to thump ; 
he summonad up, however, all his resolution, gave liis 



260 BEAUTIES OP 

tiorse half a score of kicks in the rilis, and attempted to 
dash briskly across the bridge ; but instead of starting 
forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral move- 
ment, and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, 
whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the reins on 
the other side, and kicked lustily with the contrary foot ; 
it was all in vain ; his steed started, it is true, but it was 
only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a 
thicket of brambles and alder bushes. The schoolmaster 
now bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling 
ri!)s of old Gunpowder, who dashed forward, snuffling 
and snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge with 
a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling 
over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by 
the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. 
In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the 
brook, he beheld something huge and misshapen, black 
and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in 
gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon 
the traveller. 

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his 
head with terror. What was to be done ? To turn and 
fly was now too late ; and besides, what chance was there 
of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could 
ride upon the wings of the wind? Summoning up, there- 
fore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammering ac- 
cents- — "Who are you?" He received no reply. He 
repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Siill 
there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the in- 
flexible sides of old Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, 
broke forth with involuntary fervour into a psalm tune. 

Just then the shadowy object of alarm put himself in mo- 
tion, and with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in 
the middle of the road. Though the night was dark 
and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now m 
some degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horse- 
rnin of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse 
of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or 
sociablity, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging 
along on the blind side of old- Gunpowder, .who had now 
got over his flight and waywardness. 

Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight 
companion, and bethought himsflf of the adventure of 
Brom Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quickened 
his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The strau- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 261 

ger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Icha* 
bod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag be- 
hind — the other did the same. His heart began to sink 
within him; he endeavoured to resume his psalm tune, 
but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, 
and he could not utter a stave. 'I'here was something 
in the moody and dogged silence of this pertenacious 
companion, that was mysterious and appalling. It was 
soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising 
ground, which brought the figure of his fellow traveller 
in relief against the sky, gifantic in height, and muffled 
la a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck, on perceiving that 
he was headless ! — but his horror was still more increas- 
ed, on observing that the head, which should have rested 
on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel 
of the saddle ; his terror rose to desperation ; he rained a 
shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by 
a sudden movement, to give his companion the slip — but 
the spectre started full jump with him. Away then 
they dashed, through thick and thin ; stones flying, and 
sparks flashing, at every bound. Ichabod's flimsy gar- 
ments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank 
body away over his horse's head, in the eagerness of his 
flight. 

They had now reached the road which turns oflf to 
Sleepy Hollow; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed 
with a demon, instead of keeping up to it, made an opposite 
turn, and plunged headlong down hill to the left. This 
road leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for 
about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses tlie bridge fa- 
mous in goblin story, and just beyond swells the green 
knoll on which stands the whitewashed church. 

As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful 
rider an apparent advantage in the chase ; but just as he 
had got half way through the hollov*', the girtlis of the 
saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from under him. 
He seized it by the pommel, and endeavoured to hold it 
firm, but in vain ; and had just time to save himself by 
clasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when the sad- 
* die fell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot 
by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van 
Ripper's wrath passed across his mind — for it was his 
Sunday Saddle ; but this was no time for petty fears; the 
goblin was hard on his haunches ; and (unskilful rider 
that he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat; 



262 BEAUTIES OF 

sometimes slipping on one side, and sometimes on another, 
and sometimes jolted on the liigh ridge of his horse's 
back bone, with a violence that he verily feared would 
cleave him asunder. 

An opening of the trees now cheered him with the 
hopes that the Church bridge was at hand. The waver- 
ing reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook 
told him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls 
of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He 
recollected the place where Brora Bones' ghostly com- 
petitor had disappeared. " If I can but reach that 
bridge," thought Ichabod, " I am safe." Just then he 
heard the black steed panting and blowing close behind 
him ; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Ano- 
ther convulsive kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder 
sprung upon the bridge ; he thundered over the resound- 
ing planks ; he gained the opposite side ; and now Icha- 
bod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish, 
according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just 

• ••*■■ • 

then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and m the 
very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endea- 
voured to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It 
encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash — he 
was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder^ 
the black steed, and the gobhn rider, passed by like a 
whirlwind. 

The next morning the old horse was found without 
his saddle, and with the bridle under liis feet, soberly 
cropping the grass at his master's gate. Ichabod did not 
make his appearance at breakfast — dinner-hour came^ 
but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the schoclhouse, 
and strolled idly about the banks of the brook ; but no 
schoolmaster. Hans Van Ripper now began to feel some 
uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod, and his saddle. 
An inquiry was set on foot, and after diligent investiga-- 
tion they came upon his traces. In one part of the road 
leading to the church, was found the saddle trampled in 
the dirt ; the tracks of horses' hoofs deeply dented on the 
road, and evidently at furious speed, were traced to the 
bridge, beyond which, on the bank of a broad part of the 
brook, where the water ran deep and black, was found 
the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a 
shattered pumpkin. 

The brook was searched, but the body of the school' 
master was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. OQS 

as executor of his estate, examined the bundle wJiich con- 
tained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two 
shirts and a half; two stocks for thn neck ; a pair or two 
of worsted stockings; an old pair of corduroy small- 
clothes; a rusty razor; a book of psalm tunes, full of 
dog's ears ; and a broken pitch-pipe. As to the books 
and furniture of the schoolhouse, they belonged to the 
community, excepting Cotton Mather's Historyof Witch- 
craft, a New-England Almanack, and a book of dreams 
and fortune telling ; in which last was a sheet of foolscap 
much scribbled and blotted in several fruitless attempts 
to make a copy of verses in honour of the heiress of Van 
Tassel. These magic books and the poetic scrawl were 
forthwith consigned to the flames by Hans Van Ripper; 
who from that time forward determined to send his chil- 
dren no more to school ; observing, that he never knew 
any good come of this same reading and writing. What- 
ever money the schoolmaster possessed, and he had re- 
ceived his quarter's pay but a day or two before, he must 
have had about his person at the time of his disappear- 
ance. 

The mysterious event caused much speculation at the 
church on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and 
gossips were collected in the church-yard, at the bridge, 
and at the spot where the hat and pumpkin had been 
found. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole 
budget of others were called to mind ; and when they 
had dihgently considered them all, and compared them 
with the symtoms of the present case, they shook their 
heads, and came to the conclusion that Ichabod had been 
carried off by the galloping Hessian. As he was a bach- 
elor, and in nobody's debt, nobody troubled his head any 
more about him ; the school was removed to a different 
quarter of the hollow, and another pedagogue reigned in his 
stead. 

It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New- 
Yo^k on a xdsit several years after, and from whom this 
account of the ghostly adventure was received, brought 
home the intelUgence that Ichabod Crane was still alive ; 
that he had left the neighbourhood partly through fear of 
the goblin and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in morti- 
fication at having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress ; 
that he had changed his quarters to a distant part of the 
country ; had kept school and studied law at the same 
time ; had been admitted to the bar, turned politician, 



264 



BEAUTIES OP 



electioneered, written for the newspapers, and finally had 
been made a justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones 
too, who shortly after his rival's disappearance, conduct- 
ed the blooming Katrina in triumph to the altar, was ob- 
served to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story 
of Ichabod was related, and always burst into a hearty 
laugh at the mention of the pumpkin ; which led some to 
suspect that he knew more about the matter than he chose 
to tell. 



ON GREATNESS. 

"We have more than once, in the course of our work, 
been most jocosely familiar with great personages; and, 
in truth treated them with as little ceremony, respect, 
and consideration, as if they had been our most particu- 
lar friends. Now, we would not suffer tlie mortification 
of having our readers even suspect us of an intimacy of the 
kind ; assuring them we are extremely choice in our inti- 
mates, and uncommonly circumspect in avoiding connec- 
tions with all doubtful characters; particularly pimps, bai- 
liffs, lottery-brokers, chevaliers of industry, and great men. 
The world in general is pretty well aware of what is to be 
understood by the former classes of delinquents : but ag 
the latter has never, I believe been specifically defined, and 
as we are determined to instruct our readers to the extent 
of our abilities, and their limited comprehension, it may 
not be amiss here to let them know what we understand by 
a great man. 

First, therefore, let us (editors and kings are always plu- 
ral) premise, that there are two kinds of greatness ; — one 
conferred by heaven — the exalted nobility of the soul ;— 
the other, a spurious distinction, engendered by the mob, 
and lavished upon its favourites. The former of these dis- 
tinctions we have already contemplated with reverence j 
the latter we will take this opportunity to strip naked be- 
fore our unenlightened readers; so that if by chance any of 
them are held in ignominious thraldom by this base circu- 
lation of false coin, they may forthwith emancipate them- 
selves from such inglorious delusion. 

It is a fictitious value given to indi\'iduals by public 
caprice, as bankers give an impression to a worthless slip 
of paper, thereby giving it a currency for infinitely more 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 265 

than its intrinsic value. Every nation has its peculiar 
coin, and peculiar great men ; neither of which vvill. for 
the most part, pass current out of the country where they 
are stamped. Your true mob-created great men is like 
a note of one of the little New-England hanks, and his 
value depreciates in proportion to the distance from home. 
In England, a great man is he who has most ribands and 
gew-gaws on his coat, most horses in his carriage, most 
slaves in his retinue, or most toad-eaters at his table ; in 
France, he who can most dexterously flourish his heels 
above his head — Duport is most incontestibly the great- 
est man in France ! — when the Emperor is absent. The 
greatest man in china is he who can trace his ancestry 
up to the moon ; and in this country our great men may 
generally hunt down their pedigree until it burrows in 
the dirt like a rabbit. To be concise ; our great men are 
those who are most expert at crawling on all-fours, and 
have the happiest facility in dragging and winding them- 
selves along in the dirt like very reptiles. This may seem 
a paradox to many of my readers, who with great good 
nature be it hinted, are too stupid to look beyond the mere 
surface of our invaluable writings ; and often pass over 
the knowing allusion, and poignant meaning, that is slyly 
couching beneath. It is for the benefit of such helpless 
ignorants, who have no other creed but the opinion of the 
mob, that I shall trace, as far as it is possible to follow him 
in his ascent from insignificance, — the rise, progress, and 
completion of a little great man. 

In a logocracy, to use the sage Mustapha's phrase, it 
is not absolutely necessary to the formation of a great 
man that he should be either wise or valiant, upright or 
honourable. On the contrary, daily experience shows 
that these qualities rather impede his preferment, inas- 
much as they are prone to render him too inflexibly erect, 
and are directly at variance with that \\illowy suppleness 
which enables a man to wind, and twist, through all the 
nooks and turns and dark winding passages that lead to 
greatness. The grand requisite for climbing the rugged 
hill of popularity, — the summit of which is the seat of 
power, — is to be useful. And here once more, for the 
Bake of our readers, who are of course not so wise as our- 
selves, I must explain what we understand by usefulnessij 
The horse, in his native state, is wild, swift, impetuous, 
full of majesty, and of a most generous spirit. It is then 
vhe animal is noble, exalted and useless. But entrap him, 

23 



266 BKAUTIES OP 

manacle him, cudgel him, break down his lofty spirit, put 
the curb into his mouth, tbe load upon his back, and reduce 
him into servile obedience to the bridle and tlie lash, and 
it is then he becomes useful. Your jackass is one of the 
most useful animals in existence. If my readers do not 
now understand what I mean by usefulness, I give them 
all up for most absolute nincoms. 

To rise in this country a man must first descend. The 
aspiring politician may be compared to that indefatigable 
insect called the tumbler, pronounced by a distinguished 
personage to be the only industrious animal in Virginia ; 
which buries itself in tilth, and works ignobly in the dirt, 
until it forms a little ball of dirt, which it rolls laborious- 
ly along, like Diogenes in his tub ; sometimes head, 
sometimes tail foremost, pilfeting from every rat and mud 
hole, and encreasing its ball of greatness by the contribu- 
tions of the kennel. Just so the candidate fur j^reatness : 
— he plunges into that m;iss of obscenity, the mob ; labours 
in dirt and oblivion, and makes unto himself the rudi- 
ments of a popular name from the admiration and praises 
of rogues, ignoramuses, and blackguards. His name 
once started, onward he goes struggling and puffing, and 
pushinn; it before him; collectinrr new tributes from the 
dregs and otials of the land as he i^roceeds, until having 
gathered together a mighty mass of popularity, he mounts 
it in triumph, is hoisted into office, and becomes a great 
man, and a ruler in the land. — All this will be clearly 
illustrated by a sketch of a worthy of the kind, who 
sprung up under my eye, and was hatched from pollution 
by the broad rays of popularity, which, like the sun, can 
•' breed maffsots in a dead doo".'' 

Timothy Dabble was a young man of very promising 
talents ; for he wrote a fair hand, and had thrice won 
the silver medal at a country academy ; he was also 
an orator, for he talked with emphatic volubility, and 
could argue a full hour without taking either side, or 
advancing a single opiiuon ; he had still farther requi- 
sites for eloquence ; for he made very handsome gestures, 
had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, and enuncia- 
ted most harmoniously through his nose. In short, na- 
ture had certainly marked him out for a great man ; for 
though he was not tall, yet he added at least half an 
inch to his stature by elevating his head, and assumed an 
amazing expression of dignity by turning up his nose and 
curling his nostrils in a style of conscious superiority. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 267 

Convinced by these unequivocal appearances, Dabble'g 
friends, in full caucus, one and all declared that he was 
undoubtedly born to be a great man, and it would be his 
own fault if he were not one. Dabble was tickled with 
an opinion which coincided so happily with his own, — ■ 
for vanity, in a confidential whisper, had given him the 
like intimation ; and he reverenced the judgment of his 
friends because they tliought so highly of himself; — ac- 
cordingly he set out with a determination to become a 
great man, and to start in the scrub-race for honour and 
renown. How to attain the desired prizes was however 
the question. He knew, by a kind of instinctive feeling, 
which seems peculiar to grovelling minds, that honour, 
and its better part — profit, would never seek him out ; 
that they would never knock at his door and crave ad- 
mittance ; but must be courted, and toiled after, and 
c:irned. He therefore strutted forth in the highways, 
the market-places, and the assemblies of the people ; 
ranted like a true cockerel orator about virtue, and pa- 
triotism, and liberty, and equality, and himself Full 
mmy a political windmill did he battle with; and full 
many a time did he talk himself out of breath, and his 
hearers out of their patience. But Dabble found to his 
vast astonishment, that there was not a notorious poli- 
tical pimp at a ward meeting but could out-talk him ; — 
and what was still more mortifying, there was not a no- 
torious political pimp but was more noticed and caressed 
than himself The reason was simple enough ; while he 
harangued about principles, the others ranted about men ; 
where he reprobated a political error, they blasted a 
political character : — they were, consequently, the most 
useful; for the great object of our political disputes is«not 
who shall have the honour of emancipating the commu- 
nitv from the leading-strings of delusion, but who shall 
have the profit of holduig the strings and leading the 
community by the nose. 

Dabble was likewise very loud in liis professions of 
integrity, incorruptibility, and disintercvstedness ; words, 
which, ' from being filtered and refined through news- 
papers and election hand-bills, have lost their original 
signification ; and in the political dictionary are syno- 
nymous with empty pockets, itching palms, and in- 
terested ambition. He, in addition to all this, declared 
that he would support none but honest men ; but un- 
luckily as but few of these oll'ered themselves to be 



268 BEAUTIES OP 

supported, Babble's services were seldom required. He 
plodged himself never to engage in party schemes, or 
party politics, but to stand up solely for the broad in- 
terests of his country ; — so he stood alone and what is 
the same thing, he stood still ; for, in this country, he 
who does not side with either party is like a body in a 
vacuum between two planets, and must for ever remain 
motionless. 

Dabble was immeasurably surprised that a man so 
honest, so disinterested, and so sagacious withal, and 
one too who had the good of his country so much at 
heart should thus remain unnoticed and unapplauded. 
A little worldly advice, whispered in his ear by a 
shrewd old politician, at once explained the whole mys- 
tery. " He who would become great,'' said he, " nmst 
serve an apprenticeship to greatness ; and rise by regular 
gradation, like the master of a vessel, who commences by 
being scrub and cabin-boy. He must fag in the train of 
great men, echo all their sentiments, become their toad- 
cater and parasite. — laugh at all their jokes ; and, above, 
all endeavour to make them laugh ; if you only now 
and then make a man laugh, your fortune is made. Look 
but about you, vounorster, and vou will not see a single 
little great man of the day but has his miserable herd of 
retainers, who yelp at his heels, come at his whistle, 
worry whoever he points his finger at, and think them- 
selves fully rewarded by sometimes snapping up a crumb 
that falls from the great man's tibie. Talk of patriot- 
ism, virtue and incorruptibility ! tut, man ! they are the 
very qualities that scare munificence, and keep patronage 
at a distance. You might as well attempt to entice crows 
wifti red rags and gunpowder. Lay all these scarecrow 
virtues aside, and let this be your maxim, that a candi- 
date for political eminence is like a dried herring ; he 
never becomes luminous until he is corrupt.'' 

Dabble caught with hungry avidity these congenial 
doctrines, and turned into his predestined channel of 
action with the force and rapidity of a stream which 
has for a while been restrained from its natural course. 
He became what nature had fitted him to be ; — his 
tone softened down from arrogant self-sufiiciency to the 
whine of fawning solicitation. He mingled in the cau- 
ses of the sovereign people ; adapted his dress to a 
similitude of dirty raggedness ; arfjued most logically 
with those who were of his own opinion ; and slandered, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 269 

with all tlie malice of impotence, exalted characters 
whose orbit he despaired ever to approach : — just as 
that scoundrel midnight thief, the owl, hoots at the 
blessed light of the sun, whose glorious lustre he dares 
never contemplate. He likewise applied himself to 
discharging faithfully the honourable duties of a parti- 
z;\n ; he poached about for private slanders, and ribald 
anecdotes ; he folded hand-bills — he even wrote one or 
two himself, which he carried about in his pocket and 
read to every body; he became a secretary at ward- 
meetings, set his hand to divers resolutions of patriotic 
import, and even once went so far as to make a speech, 
in which he proved that patriotism was a virtue; — 
the reigning bashaw a great man ; — that this was a free 
country, and he himself an arrant and incontestable buz- 
zard ! 

Dabble was now very frequent and devout in his visits 
to those temples of politics, popularity, and smoke, the 
ward porter-houses ; those true dens of equality, where 
all ranks, ages, and talents, are brought down to the 
dead level of rude familiarity. — 'Twas here his talents 
expanded, and his genius swelled up to its proper size; 
like the loathsome toad, which shrinking from balmy 
airs, and jocund sunshine, finds his congenial home in 
caves and duno-eons, and there nourishes his venom, and 
bloats his deformity. 'Twas here he revelled with the 
swinish multitude in their debauches on patriotism and 
porter ; and it bee ime an even chance whether Dabble 
would turn out a great man or a great drunkard. — But 
Dabble in ail this kept steadily in his eye the only deity 
he ever worshiped — his interest. Having by his fami- 
liarity ingratiated himself with the mob, he became 
wonderfully potent and industrious at elections : knew 
all the dens and cellars of profligacy and intemperance ; 
brought more negroes to the polls, and knew to a greater 
certainty where votes could be bought for beer, than any 
of his contemporaries. His exertions in the cause, his 
persevering industry, his degrading compliance, his un- 
resisting humility, his steadfast dependence, at length 
caught the attention of one of the leaders of the party ; 
who was pleased to observe that Dabble was a very 
useful fellow, who would go all lengths. From that 
moment his fortune was made ; — he was hand and glove 
with orators and slang-whangers ; basked in the sun- 
shine of great men's smiles, and had the honour, sundry 

23* 



270 BEAUTIES OF, &C. 

times, of shaking hands with dignitaries, and drinking 
out of the same pot with them at a porter-house ! ! 

I will not fatigue myself with tracing this caterpillar 
in his slimy progress from worm to butterfly ; suffice 
it that Dabble bowed and bowed, and fawned, and 
sneaked, and smirked, and libelled, until one would 
have thought perseverance itself would have settled down 
into despair. There was no knowing how long he might 
have lingered at a distance from his hopes, had he not 
hickily got tarred and feathered for some of his election 
eering mancEuvres — this was the makino- of him ! Le* 
not my readers stare — tarring and feathermg here is 
equal to pillory and cropped ears in England ; and either 
of these kinds of martyrdom will ensure a patriot the 
sympathy and suffrages of a faction. His partizans, for 
even he had his partizans, took his case into consideration 
— he had been kicked and cuffed, and disgraced, and dis- 
honoured in the cause — he had licked the dust at the feet 
of the mob — he was a faithful drudge, slow to anger, of 
invincible patience, of incessant assiduity — a thorough 
going tool, who could be curbed, and spurred, and direct- 
ed at pleasure — in short he had all the important quali- 
fications for a little great man, and he was accordingly 
ushered into office amid the acclamations of the party. 
The leading men complimented his usefulness, the mul- 
titude his republican simplicity, and the slang-whangers 
vouched for his patriotism. Since his elevation he has 
discovered indubitable signs of having been destined for a 
great man. His nose has acquired an additional eleva- 
tion of several degrees, so that now he appears to have 
bidden adieu to this world, and to have set his thoughts 
altogether on things above ; and he has swelled and inflat 
ed himself to such a degree, that his friends are under 
apprehensions that he will one day or other explode and 
blow up like a torpedo. 



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